Once Removed
by Paper Pearls
Summary: Daphne is content to live a quiet life after the war, especially once her sister becomes engaged to Draco. Lucius predicts that the match won't last, initially angering Daphne, but when he is proven right, she is forced to reconsider her opinion.
1. Chapter 1

**This story was written in response to **_**mew-tsubaki's**_** "Valentine's Day Happens Year Round" challenge. Credit to her and **_**Morghen**_** for the 'weird' pairing. It's also a response to "Daily Prompts From the Mods", using the July 12****th**** prompt, 'wrong move'. I've taken a slight liberty with Daphne's career and vocation.**

**OoOoO**

"_Look into my eyes and hear what I'm not saying,_

_For my eyes speak louder than my voice ever will."_

Daphne stepped into the crowded room, more at ease in the company of the most esteemed members of wizarding society than she had ever been in her life – not because she felt confident or especially attractive, but rather because not a single person would notice her: just how she liked it.

For as long as she could remember, Daphne had tried to convince her parents that she was happy to live a quiet, uncomplicated life. They had never understood why it was that she didn't share their ambitions – all she wanted was to finish her training to become a Potions Mistress – and it was only recently that they had started to show signs of accepting her complacent attitude regarding what they considered to be important. Not because they were proud of her chosen career, but rather because her younger sister had managed to go beyond the scope of their imaginings: Astoria Greengrass was to marry Draco Malfoy.

As she navigated her way through the tables, Daphne's eyes, like those of everyone else, were drawn to Astoria. Her younger sister had always been engaging, sparkling in company, but the triumph of hosting her engagement party made Astoria absolutely radiant. She tilted her head back and laughed at something Draco had said. It wasn't that Astoria had set out to snare the Malfoy heir – rather she had fallen for him, and seemingly he for her. Not that their parents minded, one way or the other.

Daphne passed the main tables and headed for her place in the corner of the room. It wasn't that Astoria didn't want to have her close by, but there was nothing to be gained from Daphne being granted the place of honour – she would sit, sullen and bored by petty conversation, and Astoria would only become stressed as a result, the bright pink smile faltering.

One sister at the heart of the party, and the other on the outskirts – the table plans had been organised so that both were in their element. She wasn't overly social at the best of times, but listening to all of the hypocrisy and smarm of her parents' friends and family was enough to drive her mad.

Daphne arrived at her table without any difficulties, having muttered vague responses to the greetings directed at her without breaking stride. To her disappointment, it was already occupied, and by none other than Lucius Malfoy. She suppressed a groan. Daphne had hoped to be granted a few minutes to herself in order to sustain her through the hours of polite smiles and darlings and becoming dresses and adorable couples that would almost certainly follow. He stood and rounded the table, pulling out the seat opposite to his and waiting for her to sit.

"Mr Malfoy." Daphne nodded guardedly and sat, allowing him to push her chair in.

"Miss Greengrass. Why is it that you're not sitting over there, gossiping with your sister?" Lucius looked at her sister and his son, disinterested if not downright disdainful. Daphne bristled. It was bad enough that he was insinuating that she took pleasure in such trivialities as _gossip_ without insulting her beautiful, warm-hearted little sister.

"I might ask you the same thing."

The tart response caught his attention. Lucius turned his head and faced her, an expression of mock-incredulity on his features. _Good_.

"I no longer possess a taste for such gatherings." Lucius didn't elaborate. "And you?"

"I never have done. Besides, Astoria doesn't need my help." She shot him a look that dared him to pass comment on Astoria. The corner of his mouth turned upwards in amusement, which only made Daphne resent him more.

"No, I dare say that she's done well enough for herself..." Lucius trailed off delicately, allowing the implication to stain the air between them. "Do try not to gape, Miss Greengrass; it's most unbecoming."

Speechless, Daphne watched as his eyes flickered back to the top table. _Bastard_. After a moment, she realised what, or _who_ it was that had caught his eye. Narcissa Malfoy, who had been brought up too well to divorce him, yet was not beneath formal separation, was having an animated conversation with her future daughter in law.

"Oh, I get it." After what seemed like an eternity, Daphne recovered her voice. "I get it – you're still hung up on your not-quite-ex-wife, and that pisses you off. You're bitter, and now that you've been forced to see a woman who proved the theory that Malfoys can't get everything, you're taking it out on me."

A muscle beneath his eye twitched spasmodically, the only outward sign that Lucius had heard her.

Slowly, he turned away from Narcissa. For a moment, Daphne imagined a statue come to life.

"What I am _pissed off_ about, as you so eloquently phrased it, is the fact that my son is about to make a colossal mistake. He's still in love with Pansy Parkinson, and yet Draco has too much pride to admit it. Instead, he's creating a sham of a future with the first pretty witch to show him a bit of affection. In one month, two at the most, Miss Parkinson will be back and he'll forgive her everything. It'll be as though your pretty little sister never was, to him." Lucius' voice was dangerously low, and Daphne shuddered as his cold grey eyes passed over her.

"Now you're being vindictive for the sheer hell of it. Astoria loves Draco, and he loves her – far too much to leave her, unlike _some_." Daringly, she jerked her head towards Narcissa, who was oblivious to the exchange. "Are you jealous, Mr Malfoy?"

"This conversation is over." He stood with more dignity than she could have thought possible, despite the fact that the waiters were beginning to serve the starter course. "Miss Greengrass, I would advise you not to speak of matters that you do _not_ understand. Good evening."

To her astonishment, Lucius walked away from their table and out of the function suite, neither looking back nor registering the hushed quiet that fell across the room. He passed through the double doors and out of sight. Astoria wasn't going to be pleased.

"Well, shit..." Daphne gestured for a nearby waiter to fill her champagne glass. She was going to need it – her mother had made her swear not to bring along a potions journal or any other form of reading material.

After the meal was finished, Astoria and Draco began a circuit of the room together to enable them to speak with every single guest. Unsurprisingly, Astoria made it to Daphne's table as quickly as she could without drawing attention to the face.

"Daphne, where has Lucius Malfoy been for the past _hour and a half_?" Although a serene smile was fixed to her face, Astoria was far from calm. She smoothed the velvet material of her dress robes, and Daphne noted that she had taken enough of their mother's lessons on board for the two of them. "He missed our dinner. What did you do?"

"Nothing." Daphne shook her head. Although she could never tell Astoria what Lucius really thought of her relationship with his son, it was a tempting prospect. Still, she wanted to see her sister happy.

Sure enough, when Draco approached and placed a hand on Astoria's back, her smile became truly dazzling. Daphne wondered if it was because he shared his father's reserve that Draco never showed such emotion for his fiancée, or if there had been a grain of truth in what Lucius Malfoy had hinted. _Ridiculous – that old man was poison._

"Don't worry about it; this was never really father's scene." He kissed the top of Astoria's head before turning to look at Daphne. "And how are you?"

_Bored. Tired. Drunk. Apathetic._

"Fine thanks. The food was lovely." Daphne stood on slightly unsteady legs. "I'd better get going – work tomorrow."

"You're a strange one, Greengrass." Draco smirked, and the camaraderie of their school days surfaced momentarily. "Why would you want to be an apprentice when you can just-"

"Why not?" Daphne kissed Astoria on the cheek. "I'm off now. Keep mother busy so that she doesn't notice."

"Okay, I will. Daphne? Thanks for coming, even if you hated every minute." Astoria smiled good-naturedly, and true to her word, headed in the direction of her mother with Draco hot on her heels.

Walking as quickly as she could, Daphne exited the restaurant. For a second she stood on the threshold, inhaling the cool night air. Unbidden, an image of Draco and Pansy as they had been during their time at school slipped into her mind. At the time, she had thought them inseparable.

Pulling her robes more tightly around her body, Daphne began the journey home.

**OoOoO**

Every step, one fluid motion after another, was cathartic. What Daphne really wanted was to tear Draco Malfoy to shreds with her bare hands, and Pansy Parkinson for good measure, but since she didn't wish to end up in Azkaban or the crazy ward of St. Mungo's, murder wasn't an option. Neither of them had been sighted since their reunion a fortnight ago. All through the night, Astoria wailed piteously about Draco's hands being all over Pansy, about Pansy doing all of the things that, for an interval, had been exclusively Astoria's. Daphne didn't have the heart to remind her sister that they had been Pansy's first, nor to tell her to pull herself together. Ever since the devastation of having her engagement broken, Astoria had slept in the spare room of Daphne's flat. Their parents' disappointment would almost rival Astoria's, and so she had welcomed her sister with open arms.

But after two weeks of running between comforting Astoria and working on volatile potions, Daphne's nerves were shot. She had destroyed an entire batch of Wolfsbane potion – a waste of expensive supplies and not only her own time and effort, but that of her formidable Potions Mistress: Temperance Marchmain. To her surprise, Professor Marchmain had not shouted, or even appeared to be angry. Instead, she had given Daphne the day off and refused help with cleaning up her laboratory. At first Daphne had felt guilty, but when she realised what a gift it was that she had been given, she quickly decided to make the most of it.

Rather than sitting around in her flat and listening to Astoria's periodic sobbing, Daphne had elected to spend a day in the best way that she knew; solitude. Unlike the other pedestrians, Daphne used neither an umbrella nor a shield charm. She liked walking through the fine mist of the rain – it was especially refreshing after having spent so much time indoors writing up her results between sessions of comforting Astoria. She walked through the streets of London until her desire to eat exceeded her wanderlust. On impulse, Daphne strolled into an alleyway as though it was the most natural thing in the world and apparated to her favourite restaurant. She looked up at the canopy before the entrance appreciatively, recalling some of her favourite childhood memories. On special occasions the Greengrass family had chosen to dine in greater style than they ordinarily did, and that was saying something. A meal inside would doubtlessly consume a month's worth of her salary (Daphne refused to dip into the weekly allowance her parents gave her – she was determined to prove herself an independent and capable adult), and yet she didn't care.

When she stepped inside, the restaurant was delightfully warm, the aromas of various dishes scenting the air. It was perfect, save for one problem: what few tables weren't occupied were reserved. Her stomach protested loudly enough for Daphne to cringe. Before the maître d' could notice her, Daphne strode across the room and up the stairs, into the more secluded area. She sat at a small table on the quieter side of the room, secluded yet with an impressive view, and banished the placard that had the word 'RESERVED' embossed across the front in gilt lettering. Nobody would question a Greengrass being here. Or so she hoped. A lot had changed since the war...

A waiter came to her table and handed Daphne a menu. He was, thankfully, to well paid and far too highly trained to ask why she was eating alone. Or so it seemed.

"I'll leave you another menu for sir, who will doubtlessly be with you momentarily." He bowed and left her side.

Daphne was stunned. She hadn't imagined that anyone would show up at her table – many who had the influence to do so kept a table reserved on a near-permanent basis. When she had recovered from the shock, the waiter was already descending the stairway. It would look foolish to run away from the table, to admit that she didn't belong. It would look even worse when the true owner of the table arrived. With weak hands, Daphne lifted her menu and pretended to study the listed dishes. She couldn't focus on anything.

Footsteps approached, and she looked up to see none other than Lucius Malfoy approaching, cane in hand. He handed his travel cloak to a passing waitress and slipped into the seat opposite. Daphne could hear her heart hammering. She waited for him to summon the staff and have her thrown out.

"Ah, Miss Greengrass. Good afternoon." He observed her calmly, speaking as though they had agreed to meet for lunch and she had not attempted to falsely claim his table. He sighed. "It is customary to return such a greeting."

"Mr Malfoy... aren't you going to have me thrown out?"

He didn't respond immediately.

Daphne drummed the table with her fingers. He eyed the offending digits with such intensity that she barely bring herself to continue.

"Under the circumstances, no, although if your incessant drumming is some kind of prelude to your table manners, then I may well change my mind." Daphne stopped. "Much better."

Lucius lifted his menu and began to scan the options.

"What circumstances?" Belatedly, Daphne remembered that Draco had left Astoria. Lucius merely looked at her. She felt guilty for having forgotten."Oh."

"What will you have to eat? I had planned on seafood, but you look as though you've drowned, so I'll opt for steak instead." Lifting his wand, Lucius cast a series of drying charms on her. Daphne sat rigidly, arms folded. She regretted coming to the restaurant, and there was no way she would empty her bank account for the 'pleasure' of dining with Lucius Malfoy.

"A salad." He looked thoroughly unimpressed by her choice. The same way he had looked unimpressed by Astoria as he made his callous prediction – a prophecy that had come true. Daphne felt strangely aggressive. "And water to drink."

A waiter materialised almost as soon as the decision had been reached.

"Can I take your orders please?" He looked between them, quill and parchment poised and ready.

"We'll have melon starters, two beef steaks for the main course, and a bottle of the red that I take in company." He didn't look away from Daphne as he spoke, handing the waiter their menus. She gasped in horror. There was no _way_ she could afford more than once course.

"I told you, I want a club sandwich!" She gestured emphatically for the waiter to return, but Lucius caught hold of her wrist. His fingers were surprisingly warm.

"Remain calm, you foolish girl. This is _my_ table, and since I am your host, it is my responsibility to see that you are fed." His tone told her that he would brook no arguments.

Daphne opened her mouth to tell him that she didn't need his charity when she realised that actually, she did, unless she wanted to undo the previous two years' work. She looked away from his eyes and inadvertently down to where Lucius was still holding on to her. With a slight flourish, he released Daphne's arm.

"Thank you." She didn't specify whether she was grateful for the food or being let go of. Lucius didn't press the matter, for which she couldn't help but be grateful.

"How is the younger Miss Greengrass?" His voice contained nothing beyond polite interest. Guardedly, Daphne formulated a response.

"Astoria is... staying with me for a while. She's not at her best." It was so great an understatement that Daphne felt as though she was telling a lie. Her sister sat, listless, and stared into space, strands of her hair plastered to her blotchy face. Astoria had been reduced from a beautiful socialite to little more than a waif – not that she would ever consider telling the man who had spawned The Enemy.

"No... no, I hadn't expected her to be. Sadly, I cannot grant you the satisfaction that you would doubtlessly receive were I to tell you that my son is in a similar state." He frowned slightly and paused, leaving Daphne to wonder what was going on behind the mysterious grey depths of his eyes. "And how are you, Miss Greengrass?"

"It's Daphne." She placed her napkin on her lap as the starter was served. "And I'm fine. My apprenticeship's going well, and that's all I really have time for at the moment."

"An apprenticeship?" Lucius appeared to be genuinely curious. Almost nobody expressed an interest in her chosen career path since Professor Snape. Originally, she was to become his apprentice.

"Yes, I'm halfway through training to become a Potions Mistress." Daphne began eating, savouring every mouthful.

"Why?" Lucius raised an eyebrow, fork stopping midway between the plate and his mouth.

"You mean why not live off my parents for the rest of my life?" A second eyebrow joined the first, most likely because of her candour. He nodded slightly. "Because I want to. It might be hard work, and I might never discover anything important, but I enjoy what I do. I suppose you think that's silly?"

"Not at all." Lucius spoke seriously, and as he did so he considered her thoughtfully. "That's a perfectly... adequate reason."

"I'm glad you think so, because I was going to quit if you didn't agree." Daphne tossed her hair and continued eating. For a split second, she could have sworn that Lucius Malfoy looked as though he was going to laugh.

"Now, now – there's no need get sarcastic. Tell me, Daphne, who is it that you're studying under?" He gestured for a waiter to bring some water as their starter plates were cleared away.

"Professor Marchmain." Daphne poured some water into each of their glasses, setting the jug back down between them.

"Temperance? She was a good few years above me during my time at Hogwarts; brilliant, yet rather... intimidating in the eyes of many." There was something almost teasing about him. Daphne was confused by the shift in his demeanour.

"Nothing much has changed. What about you?" She was, admittedly, rather curious about the life of Lucius Malfoy, but who wasn't? His role in the war, subsequent separation and immediate departure from a society in which he had once played a proud role had left him shrouded in mystery. For years Lucius and Narcissa had been admired and envied by all for their power and harmonious marriage – they were _the_ Malfoys. It was unimaginable that they should no longer be together.

"My life is a quiet one." His eyes narrowed slightly, giving Daphne the distinct impression that he was wary of prying. As far as she could see, it wasn't a dishonest answer; since retiring from the politics of the Ministry, Lucius would doubtlessly have less to occupy his time.

"I see..." Daphne lifted her wineglass and squinted into the contents. Really, she hadn't the first idea about what it was that he was inferring or warning her of, but she had no interest in further aggravating him.

She didn't know what more to say to Lucius.

"You resent me for what I said about your sister." The words caused Daphne to sit a little straighter, fold her arms defensively and look back at him with defiance in her eyes. Lucius smiled in a way which implied that he found the thought far from distasteful. "But more than that, you resent me for being right."

"Yeah." Blowing her fringe from her eyes, Daphne savoured the way in which her speech and mannerisms caused Lucius to wince. She shrugged, trying her hardest not to laugh out loud as his grip tightened on the cutlery. "Maybe I do."

"In my experience, women are never honest about resentment." Lucius watched her intently, and Daphne had to force herself not to fidget under his scrutiny.

She wondered what Mrs Malfoy – _Narcissa_ – had resented, recalling the pretty features that were perpetually tilted upwards. _Had she been as devoted to her husband in private as in public? Had she wished that he would spend less time at the Ministry during the beginning of their marriage? How had Voldemort impacted their relationship?_ Daphne's head spun with the questions perched on the tip of her tongue, ready to take flight. As though he sensed her thoughts, Lucius frowned.

"What about men?" As passionately as Daphne felt about equality between the sexes, it wasn't the question she wanted to ask. _Why did Narcissa leave?_

"Half the time, they don't even realise that what they feel is resentment." He fell silent, and Daphne wondered if he was referring to Draco. Being left for anyone, even someone as attractive as Blaise Zabini, must have injured his pride, even if Pansy had returned to him in the end.

"And if they do realise?"

"Then they must either completely suppress it or act upon it." His answer did nothing to clarify the underlying question of who the instigator of his separation had been, which Daphne found particularly characteristic of their house, Slytherin.

"And what do you do?" It was a bold move, and quite possibly the wrong one.

"As always, I do whatever I will find the most satisfying of my alternatives." He turned to face the waitress who had stopped by their table, giving Daphne a brief respite from the intensity of his gaze.

"Would you care to see the dessert menu, sir?"

Lucius gave her a questioning look, to which she shook her head in response. Daphne hadn't eaten so well for weeks, and she was quite full.

"No. Have the bill put on my account." The waitress gave a slight bow and continued on her way.

For a few moments they sat in silence until Daphne grew uncomfortable.

"Thank you for lunch, Mr Malfoy." He nodded graciously.

"Thank you for your _delightful_ company, Miss Greengrass." He spoke smoothly, leaving Daphne uncertain as to whether or not he was being sarcastic. They stood, and the waiter returned with Lucius' cloak.

Together, they left the restaurant. Lucius turned to face her, a slight breeze ruffling his hair. For a moment, Daphne battled with the temptation to reach out and touch a strand. She inhaled the cool air, perfumed by the scent of recent rainfall.

"And here is where we must part company. Goodbye, Daphne, and do try to remember to use an umbrella."

"Yes... Goodbye."

He disapparated, and Daphne realised that she ought to have told him that she liked walking in the rain. She rolled her eyes and began the walk home. It was the strangest encounter she could recall having.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**OoOoO**

_Where was it?_

Daphne had written down the results of so many improvisational potions that she had trouble keeping them all organised. She rifled through drawer after drawer, reminding herself that her flat was long overdue a spring clean. In amongst the chaos of her makeup drawer, Daphne spotted a rectangular sheaf of parchment that could, potentially, be what she was looking for. After pulling it out from underneath a small pile of cosmetics, Daphne turned it over and was surprised to see that she wasn't holding notes for one of her experiments.

It was an invitation to Draco and Pansy's wedding.

When the owl had arrived carrying it, Daphne had shoved the parchment out of sight so that Astoria wouldn't see it. After a month in her makeup drawer, it was more than slightly dog-eared, with a smudge of eye shadow across the front.

She had mixed feelings. They had been her housemates for seven years, and during that time Daphne had assumed, as everyone else had done, that it was inevitable that Draco would end up marrying Pansy. She had even counted Pansy as a close friend before she had been forced to take sides on the Malfoy issue. But she was also a Greengrass, and the idea of attending the wedding of a man who had discarded her little sister felt disloyal.

If Daphne was to go, she would need to hurry – the ceremony started in under an hour.

_And Lucius Malfoy would be there_.

The thought took Daphne by surprise; she hadn't seen him since their lunch together, nor had she returned to the restaurant. She refused to consider why it was that the thought of meeting him seemed so appealing. Daphne dropped the invitation onto her vanity and continued preparing for her shopping trip. Every so often, she would catch herself looking at the invitation, lying innocently between her hair brush and the assortment of lotions that her mother insisted she applied to prevent her hands from becoming rough because of her potions work.

As was her custom, Astoria burst into Daphne's bedroom without knocking. Some habits, it seemed, lasted a lifetime. Recently she had been getting washed and dressed without fail, but today she was wearing her dressing gown and appeared to be struggling not to cry. Daphne could see the words _'It should have been me'_ behind her sister's every movement; the way she toyed with the fraying edge of her sleeve, the way her lips were pressed together.

"You look nice today. Are you going somewhere?" Astoria crossed the room, showing interest in her sister now that she was focussing on her appearance; Daphne was wearing her olive green dress robes, a gift from their mother that she hadn't yet worn.

"Out for lunch." The lie slipped out with ease.

She didn't ask before rifling through trinket boxes, sliding a silver barrette into Daphne's hair. Daphne herself was resigned to her sister's attention and did nothing to protest. Astoria still hadn't forgiven her for getting her hair cut into a pageboy bob, but it was practical, easy to manage, and rather cute, at least in Daphne's opinion.

"Good. You need to get out and about, and I want to be by myself today." There was no use pointing out to her that she could always leave. Astoria's voice had wavered on the final word, but she recovered herself marvellously as she went to the makeup drawer, still hanging open. She went straight for a shade that Daphne had always considered too bright a shade of pink and set about colouring Daphne's mouth with practiced ease.

"Alright, no more; I need to get going." The more Astoria searched through her things, the more likely it was that she would find the invitation. She waited to see if her sister would argue the point or not.

"Okay." She kissed Daphne's cheek. "Have a nice time. I know I'm a pain, but I really do appreciate you letting me stay."

Her unexpected gratitude doubled Daphne's guilt. It wasn't often that Astoria said something so thoughtful, but when she did it was always touching.

With Astoria safely back in the spare bedroom, Daphne stuffed the invitation into her clutch bag along with her wand and the tube of lipstick. She doubted that tissues would be necessary. She hurried out of the door and down the stairs, almost overbalancing due to the size of her heels. Daphne apparated to the registrar's office, slightly flustered as she joined the small line of people still waiting to be directed towards their chairs. Peering into the room, she saw that the majority of guests were already seated; not a good sign.

When her turn came to be ushered, the crowd was communicating in hushed whispers, a clear signal that the wedding would shortly commence. She clambered over legs and bags and into a seat between some maternal relative of Draco's and Tracey Davies.

"I didn't think you'd make it, Greengrass." Tracey gave her a dubious glance, as though she suspected Daphne was going to cause trouble.

"Like any of us would miss this." In the crowd, she could spot their entire year group, with one notable exception: Blaise Zabini. Astoria wasn't present either, even though most of the Slytherins she had known during her school years were. It was as though Draco and Pansy had never split up. The nights with Blaise had never happened, and the fairytale ending with Astoria was nothing more than a dream. Daphne was almost asking herself if it had ever been.

It was strange to imagine that Draco, tall and pale in his dark dress robes, could just have easily been waiting on her sister by the dais at the front. The music began and Pansy made her way from the back of the church. Daphne stood, along with everyone else.

There was nothing to fault. It would have been immensely satisfying if there was a too-low neckline or a distasteful dress for Daphne to direct her rage towards. But there wasn't. Pansy looked magnificent, beautiful. As always, she commanded the attention of the entire room with a level of charisma that Daphne knew that neither she nor her younger sister would ever possess. When she smiled at Draco, he smiled back. Daphne gasped. She had never seen him look at Astoria with such absolute joy, or anything that came close.

She watched the ceremony intently, wondering if Astoria could have managed to look at once so demure and appealing. It was very tastefully done, yet there was nothing that Astoria Greengrass couldn't have made as much of a show of as Pansy Parkinson. _Pansy Malfoy_.

The newly wed Mr and Mrs Malfoy – not Lucius and Narcissa, for they had been replaced as the perfect pureblood symbol of all that was to be aspired towards – led the way from the room, clearly proud of themselves and of each other. Immediately behind them was Narcissa, aglow with the success of her son. _The victor or victim of the separation?_ Her own beauty matched that of the bride. It was unquestionable. She did not look like what one could rightly term 'Mrs Malfoy the senior'. For Pansy's sake, Daphne hoped that she would age half as well as Draco's mother had done. It seemed churlish to wish her friend ill as she basked in her new marriage.

As people began to stream out of the registry office, Daphne caught sight of Lucius Malfoy. For a moment their eyes connected, and Daphne felt a swooping in the pit of her stomach. She felt as though everything else had drifted away from her. Without meaning to, she tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear. Lucius dipped her a brief nod without breaking eye contact.

And then the moment was over.

He disappeared into the swell of the crowd, and the connection was broken.

After a quick look around her to check that nobody had noticed what at passed between her and Lucius – they hadn't, as far as she could tell – Daphne joined the tail end of the throng pushing out of the door. As she progressed up the aisle, she told herself that it was her school friends that she was trying to pick out from the crowd. It seemed that Lucius had already taken a portkey to the reception. An usher handed Daphne a white rose with a little satin sash that read 'Draco & Pansy' in a looping script. Before she could hand it back, he had moved on, and her world was spinning. Belatedly, Daphne realised that it was the portkey.

She staggered when she landed, her heels clattering against the marble floor as she collided with the wizard in front. Mortified and nauseous, Daphne moved backwards.

"I'm sorry, so sorry."

"It's fine." The man and his companion looked at Daphne as though her carelessness was anything but 'fine' in their view. She gave an apologetic smile, which died on her lips as a large hand closed around the top of her arm. Daphne turned, and was alarmed to see a man in the uniform of the ushers.

"Miss Daphne Greengrass? It is the request of our hosts that you follow me." He began walking, and she had no choice but to go with him.

_Was this Lucius' idea of revenge? Had he decided to act upon some unknown feelings of resentment for her? Or had Pansy seen her and decided that she wanted all reminders of the life that Draco had come perilously close to sharing with another gone?_

Instead of the front door of what she suspected to be a large manor house or hotel, Daphne was led past the queue of guests and into a spacious function room, two thirds of which had been filled with circular tables. In the middle was a large wooden dance floor. The usher pulled her across the floor, indifferent to the way people were staring. She couldn't help but take the opportunity to cast another glance at Narcissa, in amongst the crush at the head table, as though some vital clue would be given away by the way in which she smiled at those well enough acquainted to be crowding around her group.

Daphne nearly tripped over the hem of her gown when she saw that Lucius was watching her from the bridal table, isolated from the conversations on either side of him. Close to the heart of the reception, yet aloof and untouchable. She was guided towards the remaining seat at a table surrounded by her old classmates, and when the usher left her side Daphne sat uncertainly, trying not to let the others see that she could feel Lucius' eyes on her.

"Where were you, Greengrass?" Millicent's tone was brusque, yet there was underlying concern. Although Millicent was thought of as intimidating by those who did not know her, Daphne was long since used to her mothering, although she would never undervalue it.

"I, ah, I got held up when they were giving out portkeys." It sounded altogether more believable than the truth.

Theodore tutted loudly, drawing their attention.

"That's ridiculous! Draco had escorts arranged for each of us, but even then... My mother and father always said it was impossible to find the staff. I used to laugh at them for being so pretentious, until I realised it was true." He smiled to himself as the group began laughing, and it was almost as though they were back on their bench in the Great Hall. She had heard through word of mouth that Harry Potter's side laid their dead on the tables, where hours before there had been pumpkin juice and porridge. Once the battle had started, Daphne's only thoughts were of finding Astoria, keeping her alive.

They shared the meal, and conversation flowed as easily as it always had in their group. With none of the Gyrffindor bravado, haughty attitude of Ravenclaw, or clinginess of Hufflepuff, they had been content to play their own roles in an effective family. It may not have been as touchy-feely as the old Headmaster had always wished it, but it offered something stable and secure that Dumbledore, with his glory, had never needed.

Daphne enjoyed the meal so much so that she almost forgot about the presence behind her. Almost, but not quite. She turned around once, but he was deep in conversation with a wizard she didn't recognise.

When it came for the toast to the bride and groom, Lucius stood, once again the influential man he had once been, if only for a few fleeting minutes. He spoke well, stirring the crowd into thunderous applause and moving Pansy to tears. Even Draco, detached at the best of times, appeared moved. Not once did he seek out Daphne with his eyes. As Lucius sat, Daphne wondered how much he missed the power he had once wielded. It came to him as naturally as brewing potions came to her – that much was obvious from what little she knew of Lucius.

The applause continued as Draco led Pansy onto the dance floor. She beamed at Daphne's table before spinning to face her new husband. There was something awful about seeing Draco's hand cupped around her bare shoulder. He had never shown Astoria such tenderness and probably never would. Soon they were joined on the floor by their parents. As Lucius took Narcissa's hand in his, Daphne couldn't tell if he wanted to caress or crush it. They moved together harmoniously, as though they had danced together hundreds of times before. _Of course they had; they were married_.

As the song changed, other couples took to the floor. Theodore offered his hand, and conscious of the tiny flicker that betrayed Tracey's anger, she accepted his hand. It was easy to fall into step with Theodore. As they swayed together, Daphne recalled the way in which his angular features had first drawn her. She didn't resist as he pulled her back for a second dance. Or a third. It had been easy. _Fun_. If the wistful smile he gave her was anything to go by, Daphne knew that he felt the ghost of their relationship too. And it _still _didn't touch her heart.

When the song came to an end, Daphne stepped back from him.

"You know we shouldn't; not again." She walked away from the dance floor, lifting her bag as she passed the table.

"Don't be like that, Daphne!" His voice was jocular, yet there was an underlying plea. She ignored it. Daphne was already confused about what she wanted, and the last thing she needed was a complication.

The door Daphne had walked out was clearly not the means by which she had entered the room – that much became clear to her as she stepped out into a long corridor. The door closed behind her, only the distorted hum of the music keeping silence at bay. The floor was sumptuously carpeted, and with every step Daphne's heels sank into the plush material. Carefully, she avoided the eyes of the portraits observing her, although most feigned sleep.

By the time she finally reached a door, Daphne was so relieved that she opened it without thinking. It looked like a parlour. Voices could be heard, speaking in hushed tones. Curiosity got the better of her, and Daphne stepped into the room. She was concealed by a corner.

"-absolutely _ghastly_, a total mess. What possessed you to let him, _my_ son-" A woman spoke angrily.

"_Let him_? He's a grown man now, and I couldn't very well have stopped him-" A male voice joined the first, a male voice that Daphne recognised very well indeed.

_Surely not_.

"You couldn't get an audience with the Minister if you wanted to, but Draco is your son. He would have listened to you before marrying that, that jumped up Parkinson girl! It's all so-" Narcissa Malfoy paced furiously past the wall that had separated her from Daphne, gesticulating angrily. She was so close that Daphne could smell the fragrant scent of her perfume, see the fibres of her robe shimmer in the firelight.

Daphne gasped. Belatedly, she covered her mouth with her hand.

Narcissa swivelled to face her, shock evident as she froze.

"Distasteful, I know." Footsteps could be heard, and a moment later Lucius appeared behind Narcissa. _They made a striking couple_. Daphne wondered at her trivial thoughts when she had, in effect, been caught spying. "Daphne Greengrass..."

"I'll leave you to it." Narcissa looked Daphne from head to toe before sweeping from the room. It wasn't the stern rebuke or cruelty that she had expected. The door shut firmly behind her, and when Daphne looked back she saw that Lucius was watching her with an intensity she had never experienced from anyone.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here." She wondered if he was going to reprimand her, or drag her from the house before the guests, as much friends of his family as hers. Daphne's face flushed.

"I believe that both Draco and Pansy invited you to attend," He spoke slowly as though addressing a small, unruly child. "Although, you ought not to have heard that conversation at all."

"Sorry. I really should get- go home now. I..." Daphne stammered uncertainly, not understanding what it was that he wanted with her. She was filled with panic.

"This is my house and mine alone." Lucius regarded her seriously. "You are not going to be ejected from this property unless I so wish it. Now, sit."

She wondered for the briefest of moments if he intended to have her sit on the floor like a dog, until he led her farther into the room. It was luxuriously furnished, antique yet comfortable. Daphne perched on the edge of the sofa before the fireplace. She concentrated on trying to sound like she had a brain between her ears.

"I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I just had to get away for a minute."

"Hmm." Lucius poured a measure of Scotch into a crystal tumbler, which he then handed to her before retrieving his own from a small table.

"Thank you." Daphne followed his lead and took a sip of the whisky, trying not to wince as she swallowed it. Lucius' mouth twitched. Apparently she hadn't been successful at keeping the grimace from her face.

"An acquired taste. Is there anything you would prefer?"

"No, I think I've had enough to drink, thanks." Daphne set the glass down on a table by the corner of the sofa.

"Very well then." Lucius sat beside her, staring into the flames. His hands were clasped on his knees, and he hunched over them. He had worn his hair back in a bow, yet one platinum strand had come loose at the side. Daphne wished once more that she could touch his hair.

"I'm sorry that you and... Narcissa aren't pleased with Draco's marriage." He jerked slightly as she named his wife. The name had felt awkward in Daphne's mouth.

"Yes, well, he's simply going to have to learn for himself." He gave a wry smile. "You saw the way they were during your time at Hogwarts. Did you ever think that she'd stray with the Zabini boy?"

"No." Daphne answered truthfully; they had been devoted to each other.

"No, it's almost impossible to suspect..." Lucius fell silent, and for the first time it occurred to Daphne that he was only human. _A man_. He looked slightly haggard without his splendid dress robes to divert attention. Before she could stop herself, Daphne reached out and brushed the back of his hand with her fingertips.

His breathing hitched.

"I knew that you felt it too." Lucius took her hand between his own. It. There was no denying the charge between them now that he had acknowledged its existence. She wanted him.

Wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, Lucius leant in slowly and gave her a chaste, lingering kiss. After he pulled away, Daphne brushed her lips. It was unbelievable to think that _she_ had kissed Lucius Malfoy.

"That was... different." Lucius frowned darkly. "Different in a good way, I think."

"How so?" His demeanour was guarded.

"Well, it isn't every day that I kiss a man that was nearly my sister's father-in-law, or a married man." Daphne became more serious when she saw that her joking wasn't going to make understanding Lucius any easier. "But I liked it and if you wanted to do it again, then-"

She was cut off as Lucius kissed her again, this time more heatedly. It seemed that he required little encouragement. Daphne sighed softly as he licked and bit a blazing trail across her neck. With trembling fingers she untied the black ribbon and released his hair. It was thick and smooth between her fingers. Lucius smirked as she continued to toy with his tresses.

"If you don't wish for this to continue, then I suggest that you make your way back to your friends now." Lightly, he brushed a hand down the middle of Daphne's back.

Perhaps she had consumed more wine than she had realised, because her head swam slightly as she shook it.

Drunk or not, Daphne would never forget what happened next.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is dedicated to Imablack and witchwithwings24. I really do appreciate your reviews.**

**OoOoO**

Daphne opened her eyes, looking up at the white canopy above her head.

_It wasn't her bed_.

She sat up, holding the soft sheets around herself as she registered the unfamiliar location. Lucius was nowhere to be seen, but she was certain that it was his bedroom. Moving slowly due to the slight pounding in her head, Daphne climbed out of the bed. It was the largest she had ever been in. She padded over to the window and pulled the curtain back a fraction. The sunlight caused her head to begin to throb, and so Daphne allowed it to drop back into place, but not before she had caught sight of the expansive gardens. There were fountains, statues and flowerbeds extending as far as she could see.

_She had slept with __**Lucius Malfoy**_.

Gasping, Daphne covered her mouth.

"Oh _Merlin_!" As soon as the realisation began to sink in, Daphne began to scramble around the room and collect her clothing.

Considering that he hadn't remained, it seemed likely that he would prefer her to leave. After a frantic search for her purse – it had been underneath the bed all along – Daphne attempted to find her way to the nearest possible exit. She went back out of the bedroom and into a corridor, eventually finding a stairway. Disregarding how uncomfortable her shoes had become, Daphne bolted down the stairs, determined not to be spotted by Lucius Malfoy or whoever else could be lurking in the house. For a terrifying moment, she struggled to open the colossal double doors, but a quick flick of her wand sorted the problem. Daphne forced herself not to run along the pathway that led from the front door to the gates just visible in the distance: she was _not_ trespassing and refused to behave as such. Every few seconds she attempted to apparate. Predictably, it didn't work until she had left the property.

Never had she been so glad to see the cramped little landing on the bottom floor of her apartment block. Exhausted, Daphne climbed the stairs to her flat, shoes in hand, hoping desperately that none of her neighbours would open their doors and witness her walk of shame. He had called her darling and looked at her so hungrily that Daphne had dared to imagine that she was beautiful. _It made no sense_. She felt a surge of guilt as she stepped into her flat and discovered that Astoria was still gone. It was unlikely that her sister could determine what happened, but it was easy to imagine that Astoria would simply _know _what had transpired; she had always possessed an instinct for such things.

As she washed and prepared herself for another regular day, Daphne began to consider the work she would need to do in order to catch up. She apparated directly into the lab, craving the normalcy of brewing. Temperance was nowhere to be seen. Daphne went straight to her workbench and lifted the list of what she was expected to brew. All thoughts of Lucius Malfoy and the way he had caressed her left her head as she considered the methods behind the creation of each potion.

Daphne lost track of time as she threw herself into her work. She chopped, sliced, stirred, stewed and boiled, moving between half a dozen different potions. After several hours, Daphne poured the last of the potions into a selection of vials and began sealing them, stamping the wax with Temperance's seal. Initially Daphne had marvelled over the symbol of status – entirely independent of blood or connections – and instead of dimming with time, her sense of awe had only grown as she drew progressively closer to earning her own mastery of potions.

Wiping her brow, Daphne leant back against the bench and surveyed the laboratory, jolting as she realised that Temperance was stood in the doorway watching her. Immediately she lifted her wand from the counter and began cleaning up after herself – it didn't do to be seen idle.

"Good." Temperance nodded as she peered into the cauldron, eying the residue with expert gaze. "I want to see your critique of the samples in the cupboard over there within forty eight hours."

Without showing a trace of her reluctance, Daphne gave up the brief respite of the bench and crossed the room. Two dozen little bottles stood before her, none of which were labelled. She suppressed a groan.

"Certainly." Daphne put them all into her bag slowly. She was weary due to her lack of sleep.

"Goodnight, Daphne. It would be expedient for you to rest before you begin this task." Underneath her serious demeanour, Temperance was a caring friend, and perceptive enough that Daphne was half convinced that she suspected her of the encounter with Lucius.

"Thanks, I will. 'Night." Their roles were reversed as Daphne became the observer, watching as Temperance pushed the braid of iron grey hair over her shoulder and removed the preservation charms from the various batches she was concocting. The level of concentration was impressive. Deciding to follow the advice of the Potions Mistress, a woman with an almost unnatural tendancy to be right, Daphne disapparated.

The apartment was in darkness when she returned.

"Astoria?" Daphne waved her wand, illuminating the interior of her home. There was no response – she hadn't expected one.

Something would have to be done to repair their relationship, and soon. Astoria would most likely be wide awake and playing hostess to whoever their parents were entertaining for the evening, but Daphne lacked the energy to face her family. She loved them dearly but that didn't stop them from being exhausting, questioning her priorities and trying to forcibly propel her into their world.

She set the potions out on her living room table and gave in to the nagging voice in her head that told her she ought to begin working. Daphne sat cross legged, leaning against the front of her sofa, and pulled the cork from the first potion.

**OoOoO**

Although she had been so tired that her vision had swam when she staggered to her bed, Daphne didn't regret placing her research before rest. Temperance would be impressed by her speed, and it meant that she would have the remainder of her day to restore some semblance of order to her personal life.

She had slept in until almost midday and gone out for afternoon tea with Astoria, which had gone better than she had expected; although not quite forgiven (Daphne doubted that she would be until Astoria next needed a favour from her), Astoria found it understandable that she had wanted to spend time with her friends. It had seemed pointless to risk further castigation by explaining that she had gone because of the bizarre desire to see Lucius Malfoy and had ended up having sex with him. The sole scenario Daphne conjured in which Astoria was not hysterical, either in tears or laughter, consisted of her younger sister attempting to convince her to compare notes on how the two Malfoys performed. _Disturbing_.

Daphne was collecting her notes on the potions, each of which had been spoiled in some way, and packing them into her satchel when a loud knock sounded from behind her front door. Hopeful that it was her sister returning to stay with her, Daphne opened the door with a welcoming smile, which faded as she recognised her guest. Lucius was wearing an immaculate set of navy robes with silver stitching, cane in hand. He looked as though he was going to a Ministry function rather than her flat.

"Miss Greengrass, may I come in?" His formality left Daphne feeling cold. Not wanting him to be seen standing on her doorway, she stood back to allow him entry. He took in the living room with a condescending glance.

"What do you want?" She folded her arms. Lucius appeared mildly taken aback by her aggression.

"Very well, I shall go directly to the point; I have been considering the matter for quite some time now and I would like for you to become my mistress." He began walking in a circuit of the room, not looking at Daphne. She sank into the nearest chair, certain that her legs could no longer support her weight.

"What?" Daphne ran a hand through her hair, exasperated. The whole experience was surreal.

"I know, it's unexpected. On both sides. I hadn't planned on making such an offer to any woman at all." He was frowning again, and Daphne wondered why it was that he expected her to find the suggestion flattering. "You accept, I presume?"

"No. I don't want to be anyone's mistress." Daphne stood, angrier than she had expected to feel. "Especially not the mistress of a man who disappears after he's had what he's looking for. I don't know why I did it. The fact that you expect me to jump at the chance to service you whenever you miss _Narcissa_ adds insult to injury. Get out."

Lucius' jaw dropped. All etiquette was forgotten in his shock. He blinked owlishly.

"You enjoyed it – very much, if I recall correctly – so why ever not?" There was almost a petulant quality in the way that he regarded her.

The question left Daphne reeling. She didn't know how best to retaliate.

"I did like it, so by all means leave with your masculine pride intact..." Daphne gestured towards the door. Again, he ignored her dismissal.

"What's to stop you?" He stepped around the coffee table with an almost feline grace. As Lucius drew nearer, she found that it was impossible to avoid his magnetic pull. "I can be very generous indeed, Daphne. You'd want for nothing."

He caressed her cheek with surprising tenderness, and for a dangerous moment Daphne's resolve came close to deserting her. _Was this the way he touched every valuable possession?_

"I don't want money or- or jewellery or whatever else it is that you're suggesting." She turned her head away. "I want someone capable of valuing me for what I am, which you _clearly_ aren't if you think that you can buy me."

"I see." There was a frosty edge to the words. Lucius lowered his hand to grasp his cane. His grip was so tight that his knuckles were white.

"You know what the damndest thing is? If you had asked me to go for a walk or for a drink, something normal like that, I would have said yes." Daphne didn't watch as he left her flat.

There was a pause before she heard the door open. She wondered what Lucius was thinking of, why he had made the absurd proposition. The room felt overly spacious for the absence of his formidable presence.

When she covered her face with her hands, Daphne discovered that her cheeks were wet.

**OoOoO**

"Keep your men friends – _all_ friends – out of my laboratory." Temperance didn't look up, nor did she break her rhythm of grinding the acacia as she spoke. Her mouth was set in a line.

"I'm sorry?" Daphne couldn't help but stare.

All afternoon she had been aware that Temperance was going to speak. There was no point in rushing her, as the Potions Mistress only ever said what she wanted to say exactly when she wanted to say it, no sooner, and certainly no later.

"You should be; two of the potions for St. Mungo's boiled over." A lopsided smile betrayed Temperance's amusement. "It was, however, a most memorable exchange. I had not seen Lucius Malfoy for many years, and our meeting gave me a brief reminder of why that was."

"Oh." Daphne felt weak. She didn't know what it was that she felt. Excitement? Anger? _Both_.

"Naturally, I told him that if he wished to speak to you then he would not be doing so in my time. You're a good worker, Daphne, but distractions are dangerous in the potions lab." Turning her back, Temperance dropped the powdered acacia into a simmering cauldron, the contents of which turned a pale yellow.

"I see."

No reply came. Taking the hint, Daphne finished cleaning up after herself. Before leaving, she paused in the mouth of the stairway. Temperance did not call her back, and so she continued, curious about Malfoy's motive in visiting the laboratory. She wondered how he had known where to find her, if he still had enough connections to do so at will.

It was a chilling thought, and Daphne was glad when she was back in her flat with the door locked. She showered in order to remove the various traces of her occupation from her skin and hair, and was considering what to make for her dinner when there was a knock on her door.

It was Astoria.

The younger Greengrass stepped past her without asking permission. Daphne forced herself to ignore her sense of disappointment and make her sister feel welcome. Apparently the shopping trip their parents had funded had gone some way to improving her state of mind, as for a monotonous half hour she described every purchase on her extensive list in great detail, occasionally lamenting Daphne's own failure to make use of the same resources. All that stopped Daphne from closing her eyes and going to sleep were the cartons of Japanese food that her sister had thought to bring. Finally, it occurred to Astoria to ask her host about her own day.

"So, what did you get up to with Professor Marchmain?" Astoria raised her eyebrows suggestively, a gesture with which Daphne was familiar enough to ignore.

"We worked on various things for St. Mungo's." Unlike Astoria, Daphne had never felt inclined to talk about subjects that others in her company had no interest in.

"Are you sure there's nothing else you want to tell me?"

"I'm not gay, Astoria. I have no idea if Professor Marchmain is or not, but really I couldn't care less." Daphne felt justified in taking the last of the sashimi, which Astoria had been eying for several minutes.

"But she's an old spinster! And if you don't get a move on, you will be too." Astoria sighed theatrically. "It's a terrible waste, Daphne. If you just made a _little_ more effort, then you'd find someone in no time."

Daphne bit back the remark concerning efforts with appearances having no lasting hold on Draco Malfoy. Judging by her expression, it was clear that Astoria understood what her sister had refrained from saying. She softened slightly.

"You really are lovely, but sometimes you take things too far. Father gives you five hundred galleons a month and you don't use any of it!"

"I have my own salary, and so should you by now." Daphne wasn't about to admit that she earned less than half of what her father gave her. "It's not all that difficult to live alone once you get used to."

Astoria gave a tragic smile.

"I've had to get used to it."

"You know perfectly well what I meant." Daphne tossed a cushion at her sister.

"Well we can't all be as practical as you are." Disgruntled, Astoria set about smoothing invisible creases from her robes, ignoring the fact that the cushion had fallen short of her by several inches.

"So apart from spending father's money, what are you going to do with yourself now?"

"Start going out again, I suppose. That's why mother was so nice about giving me money for some new clothes." Astoria didn't acknowledge Daphne's look of incredulity that she had already managed to fritter away her monthly allowance. "Tonight I'm going out for dinner with some friends – all girls, but at least we'll be seen – and that should be fun."

Astoria stood, lifting her handbag. It was obvious that she had no interest in helping to clear up.

"I'll see you soon." She blew Daphne a kiss and headed to the doorway, bending down to scoop something from the carpet. "The doorman must have left this here for you."

"Thanks." Daphne accepted the letter and watched her sister leave. Absently, she flicked her wand and sent all of the cartons into the bin and the cutlery into the sink to wash itself, before unfolding the parchment.

'_Daphne,_

_I spoke rashly and without consideration to your pride, for which I am sorry. It had been my intention to apologise in person earlier today, but Temperance made it clear to me that you were otherwise engaged, and I am occupied for the remainder of the day. However, I would like to invite you to my home for dinner tomorrow night._

_I do hope that a simple meal is __normal __enough for your tastes. _

_Yours,_

_Lucius Malfoy'_

It seemed that he was perfectly serious. Daphne scanned the letter once more for anything that could suggest a practical joke. There was nothing. She was grateful that he had refrained from marking the envelope with the Malfoy crest, which Astoria would certainly have recognised. Indeed, the tone of the letter was thoughtful, and the dry wit she had come to appreciate was evident. Daphne searched for her quill and some parchment and sat at her desk, trying to compose a reply.

'_Lucius,_

_I accept both your apology and your invitation._

_Thank you._

_-Daphne'_

Before she could rethink her decision, Daphne attached the parchment to her owl's leg and opened her window, watching him fly into the night sky. Conscious that it was a vapid thing to be focussing on, Daphne asked herself one question several times over. _What to wear?_

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**OoOoO**

In the end, Daphne resisted the temptation to ask her younger sister for help in selecting clothes. It would only raise awkward questions, and if Lucius Malfoy wanted her, then he could have her as she was or not at all. After selecting a purple dress and a simple string of pearls, Daphne forced herself to continue working on her assigned potions work until necessity dictated that she leave in order to avoid tardiness. She apparated to the border of the Malfoy estate and strode along the cobbled path that led to the manor house. At least half of the hundreds of windows were bright, and she wondered behind which it was that Lucius was located and whether or not he was watching her approach.

Daphne knocked the door and waited. _Had it been loud enough?_ Just as she was about to rap her fist against the wood more firmly, the door swung inwards to reveal not the house elf she had expected, but Lucius Malfoy himself.

"Good evening. Do come in." He stepped back to allow her entry to the mansion. After a pause, during which she overcame her surprise, Daphne followed him into the foyer, taking in the sophisticated decor anew. Without the hustle and bustle of the wedding, it became possible to appreciate how spacious the room really was.

"Hi..." She smiled, a little too shyly for her liking. Lucius refrained from criticising the informal greeting – the slight frown told her that he wanted to.

"Come in, please. I trust I find you in good health?"

"A little tired, but fine other than that. What about you?" As they climbed the stairs, Daphne noticed that Lucius cut an impressive figure in a black waistcoat and trousers, if not as imposing as normal. It occurred to her that he was trying to dress informally for her benefit, a strangely touching gesture.

"Well enough." He did not elaborate. She did not ask him to. "Your sister was out last night, and by all accounts she was charming."

"I'm sure she would have been." The mention of Astoria threw Daphne off balance. Astoria loved Draco. Daphne had been friends with Draco at school, and Lucius was his _father _– it was complicated enough without this additional factor added to the mix. Lucius paused at the top of the stairs, meaning that she had to stop suddenly. He watched her for several seconds. Daphne struggled remain still.

"You look lovely." He nodded slightly and continued, leaving Daphne dazed.

_Lovely_ was Narcissa and everything that she embodied – beautiful and refined, not spiky and eccentric. Daphne was unsure what he had meant by his comment. She realised that Lucius was considerably farther along the corridor than she was and dashed to keep up with him. Much to Daphne's surprise, he led her into his private sitting room. Thankfully, there was no Narcissa pacing before the fire, only a comparatively small table set for two. Although it was a showy gesture, Daphne knew that it would be churlish to object as Lucius helped her onto her chair. After he had pushed her close to the table, his hand hovered by her shoulder for the briefest of moments. Lucius moved away, much to her disappointment, and continued to behave formally.

_Why did you leave?_

Daphne had to bite her lip to stop herself from asking the question. She ate the meal in relative silence, only speaking when it became necessary. The food was mouth watering, and Lucius couldn't be faulted for his hospitality. Whenever Daphne considered raising a topic of conversation, she looked into his eyes and felt the pit of her stomach plummet. It was as though he became progressively less reachable as time passed.

Finally, Lucius balanced his fork on top of his knife and regarded her pointedly. Daphne felt awkward eating under scrutiny, so she pushed her plate away, inwardly cringing as the tablecloth bunched. There was no way that Lucius could see the slight wrinkle, although he was frowning slightly in a way that indicated disapproval.

"You're displeased." Although he spoke evenly, it was clear that the statement could be applied to Lucius as easily as it could to her. It took all of Daphne's strength to bite back a sarcastic remark concerning his powers of awareness.

"Yes." Daphne avoided his gaze, taking in the ornate furnishings of the room. His home wasn't dissimilar to the house she had grown up in, but in so many ways it felt absolutely foreign. It was strange to imagine Narcissa draped across the love seat and stranger still a tiny little Draco sitting on the rug before the hearth.

"Well, short of eating greasy chips with our fingers, I cannot think of another scenario in which I could have seen to your request more effectively." Disdain dripped from every syllable. Daphne was perturbed by the way he had spoken – almost accusingly.

"What? This is nice; very nice." Daphne fidgeted with her pearls, wishing that Lucius didn't make her feel so awkward. His frown intensified and Daphne felt her patience desert her. "I'm not angry about food, Lucius. I'm angry because you left."

"Excuse me?" She could tell by the almost comical look of surprise he gave her that Lucius genuinely hadn't been expecting her ire.

"I don't understand why you would do it – sleep with me, leave, and then come to my flat and ask if we could do it again. Do you want me or not? I don't know. I really don't." Daphne dropped her napkin on the table with shaking fingers and stood. It was humiliating that Lucius could make her feel so much for him when he was yet to give any indication that he felt anything beyond mild curiosity.

Her vision blurred, she attempted to scan the room for her belongings. Somewhat awkwardly, she stepped around the antique coffee table and lifted her handbag from the sofa. She was so desperate to leave that she ceased to care about her cloak – in fact, Daphne would sooner swallow her pride and spend her allowance on a dozen new cloaks and dresses than spend another moment feeling like she didn't matter.

"It hadn't occurred to me to stay."

Daphne froze midway to the door, fully prepared to make another embarrassing exit from the Malfoy home. She heard the legs of his chair scrape against the wooden floorboards, and a few seconds later felt a warm hand on her bare shoulder.

"You were married for more than twenty years! You can't possibly expect me to believe that- that- let _go_ of me."She tried to wriggle free, but instead of complying, Lucius grasped her waist with his free hand.

"I hadn't believed that it would have upset you, otherwise..." Lucius sighed, and his breath tickled her neck. Daphne ceased wriggling, interested in what he would say. "I don't know. Your idea of a few dates and whatever else you want aren't nearly as simple as you think, Daphne."

"I never said it _was _easy." Daphne allowed her hand to rest on top of his. "It's just more... innocent."

He snorted.

"The one thing I am not." He spoke rather quietly, as though scared of frightening her off. "By your standards this doesn't seem to be a successful venture."

"I don't know." Attempting to reassure him, Daphne leant back against Lucius. It was a confusing situation to say the least. "It feels like it could be, but I can't keep doing this – I can't keep going from having you hold me like this to making me feel like I'm nothing."

"You are-" Lucius pulled her around so that they were facing one another. He caressed her neck gently before grasping her chin and forcing Daphne to look at him. "You are _not '_nothing' to me."

Daphne considered his stilted attempt to set her at ease. It was laughable, as proclamations went, but if she showed the slightest sign of amusement then it was more than likely that Lucius would be affronted enough to end their association permanently.

"So why didn't you stay?"

His expression darkened.

"It's- I apologize unreservedly for upsetting you. If I promise never to do it again, will you forgive me?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Daphne realised that he wasn't going to be forthcoming with an explanation – the apparent compromise was the best that she could hope for. She wondered if Lucius would ever be open with her, and it occurred to her that was willing to find out.

"I will." Daphne kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Then you have my word." Lucius sat down on the leather sofa and gestured for her to sit beside him. He looked at her strangely as she kicked off her shoes, but his expression softened when Daphne nestled into his side.

"You tried to come and see me at Temperance's."

"Yes – consider that proof of your own... significance. She was a less than amicable host." Daphne giggled. The more time that she spent with him, the more she came to appreciate Lucius' skill for deadpan delivery of witticisms.

"So I heard. Did you really expect anything less?"

Lucius didn't answer, instead pressing a kiss against the top of her head. Touched, Daphne fell silent.

**OoOoO**

It was a mark of how pleased Daphne was with the development in her relationship with Lucius that she had allowed Astoria to talk her into what had turned out to be a reconnaissance mission. When she had started to yawn the previous night, Lucius had escorted her home, given her a lingering kiss and returned to his mansion. His consideration had left Daphne in a happy daze, and so Daphne had failed to spot the underlying meaning behind Astoria's words. It turned out that 'catching up in town and soaking up some culture' was code for going to the theatre and stalking Draco Malfoy.

The first clue had been the way in which Astoria had forsaken her not inconsiderable pride and actually deigned to queue for their tickets – unheard of in the Greengrass family history, and unimaginable considering that they owned a box – as opposed to marching past the public and flashing the porters her haughtiest smile. The second had been the way she had allowed herself to become invisible in the crowd and held her programme to her face as a certain blonde strutted by, Pansy's hand, complete with the ring, resting proudly on the crook of his arm. Daphne had been ready to tell her sister that she was on her own and leave the noise of the atrium behind when another person joined the Malfoy party. Narcissa. She walked with her usual poise, allowing a porter to remove her mink travel cloak as she went. In one smooth little gesture that Daphne was forced to concede was impressively fluid, Narcissa tugged her gloves from her hands and pressed them into the hands of the porter, her own wedding ring glinting in the light spilling down from the chandeliers.

Due to the magnetic nature of Narcissa, Daphne didn't immediately realise that she ought to follow her sister's lead and aim to be as inconspicuous as possible. She watched with horror as Narcissa moved away from her son and daughter-in-law, breaking from the party in order to talk to a moustachioed wizard that Daphne vaguely recalled from the dinner parties that had been common before the fall. Pansy shrieked with laughter, a grating sound that echoed off the marble walls, and for a moment Daphne thought they had been spotted. She stepped back so that she was beside Astoria and lifted a programme of her own from the stand, dropping a couple of knuts into the honesty box.

"There she goes, reminding everyone that it's all about her." The bitterness in Astoria's voice surprised her. It wasn't easy to say of the enmity extended beyond the normal friction between mothers and their sons' girlfriends, but Daphne didn't have time to dwell on it as her sister tugged her sleeve. They had made it to the front of the line.

"Ah, it is a pleasure to see you, Miss Greengr-" The manager gestured expansively for the two sisters to follow him, but his smile faltered when Astoria cut him off.

"Yes, yes, we're in a rush." She snatched the tickets from his hand and disappeared around the corner, leaving Daphne to insist that they didn't want their cloaks taken in and follow. The manager looked almost insulted, but there was no time to feel guilty.

Before she began to climb the stairway, Daphne risked a look over her shoulder and was relieved to see that Draco and Pansy were, at least outwardly, still in the newlywed phase of their marriage and only interested in conversing with one another. Narcissa was deep in discussion with a stately looking witch, her attention occupied. It was impossible to make out what she said over the chatter of the crowd. Daphne sighed in relief before hurrying after Astoria.

"Keep up!" Astoria was clearly highly strung as she all but spat the words at her sister – such loss of composure in public was rare on her part; extremely rare. She tapped her wand against the door of their family's box and it swung open to reveal the ornate interior of the room.

Daphne closed the door behind her and dropped into her chair, wiping her palms on the plush velour of the armrests. From the corner of her eye, she saw Astoria sitting rigidly in her chair. They watched in silence as the seats beneath them filled. With a jolt, Daphne saw the Malfoy party step into their own box and sat back in her seat, hoping that the shadows would obscure her from view.

"Thank you." Astoria's hands were shredding the programme methodically, but otherwise she appeared perfectly calm.

"Astoria, this is madness. We should go." Even as she spoke, Daphne knew that it was too late. They were now committed to their illogical mission.

"Maybe."

A short while later, the curtain rose and the production, a biographical play based upon the life of Healer Mungo Bonham, the founder of St. Mungo's. Daphne could barely focus on the production, turning every few seconds to make sure that the Malfoys weren't looking at her. She didn't know whether or not Narcissa had been made aware of what she shared with Lucius, and Daphne certainly didn't relish the prospect of discussing it with her.

Daphne had almost managed to relax – she had cut her glances down to once every five minutes – when she realised that something was amiss. Narcissa Malfoy was looking directly at her. From her current distance, Narcissa's facial expression was impossible to read, but Daphne knew that she would have no more success deciphering it were she at a closer proximity. There was only one person as difficult to understand, and that was Lucius; her husband. Astoria leant over to comment on the play, but Daphne was frozen in place by those piercing eyes.

"Oh Merlin, she's looking right at me." Astoria stood, the scraps of parchment fluttering from her lap. Daphne, on the other hand, didn't move. She was grateful for Astoria's belief that Narcissa's attention could only be accredited to herself. There was no way to explain any of her involvement with Lucius to her sister. "We need to go now."

The lighting rose, signalling the beginning of the interval. For a moment Daphne felt as though the spotlight had been turned on her.

"You're right." She tore her eyes from Narcissa and followed her sister as quickly as she could whilst maintaining her dignity. Running in public would draw far more attention than anything else, short of her sister bumping into Draco Malfoy.

Her heart hammering against her ribcage, Daphne raced along the red carpet, following the retreating back of her sister and buttoning up her cloak as she went. She ignored the greetings from various acquaintances until Narcissa Malfoy stepped into her path, the quality of her robes and the striking beauty of her features all the more noticeable now that they were face to face.

"Good evening, Miss Greengrass. Tell me, are you enjoying yourself?" Narcissa wrinkled her nose slightly as though she found herself to be in distasteful company.

"More than you are, at any rate." Daphne flashed Narcissa with the best condescending smile that she could muster. _You can't have him back_. "Excuse me."

Before Narcissa could respond, she pushed through the crowd after Astoria. The glass doors swung open as she approached them, and Daphne inhaled the fresh air deeply. It was raining, and in her typical fashion Astoria had conjured a frilly green umbrella.

"Let's go home." Astoria gave a wan smile before disapparating, leaving her sister to muse over the awkward exchange. As much effort as her parents could be, Daphne found the thought of their familiar routine reassuring. She too disapparated, leaving the theatre behind.

**OoOoO**

"Did you have a nice time, girls?" Mrs Greengrass' smile slipped as she caught sight of Daphne taking an extra helping of apple pie. "Do you _really_ need that, darling?"

"No mother, but evidently I'd like it anyway." Pointedly, Daphne took a large bite.

"Now, now." Despite his chastisement, Mr Greengrass gave his elder daughter an indulgent wink.

"Yes thank you, mummy. We had a marvellous time." Astoria, ever the favourite, gave their mother a winning smile. "Maybe next time you'd like to come with us?"

Daphne nearly choked, but after having put up with (and rather enjoyed) an entire evening of mothering, she refused to give her mother the satisfaction. Instead, she interrupted the conversation before things got out of hand.

"I have to get going now – I left some Wolfsbane simmering, and it'll need checked up on." Daphne ignored her father's look of displeasure. A small part of her enjoyed baiting her parents for their prejudices. Werewolves weren't her favourite community by any stretch of imagination – they ceased to be human every single month, and in that time they could do appalling damage - but she wouldn't want to see them meet the fate that her parents thought they deserved.

"Do you really need to assist those... people? Only-"

"Yes, mother, I do. It isn't up to me what I brew, but there's a good business in it." Daphne stood and moved around the table to kiss her mother goodbye, wondering what Lucius would make of the controversial brew. He had once worked alongside Fenrir Greyback, and that experience was bound to have shaped his opinions. Her father squeezed her hand as she kissed his cheek, and Astoria simply looked at her as though she had announced her intention to snap her wand and become a part of the muggle world.

"It was lovely seeing you, Astoria." Daphne waved to her sister, who had the good grace to look away as she recalled the hectic afternoon they had shared. "I'll see you all soon."

She took some floo power from a trinket box and dropped it into the fire. It was with relief that Daphne took the floo network to her flat. The rooms could have fit into less than half of her parents' dining room, but Daphne was still pleased to have a space that was truly her own.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks very much to everyone who has taken the time to read and review. This chapter will indeed be from Lucius' perspective.**

**OoOoO**

There was a remarkably peaceful quality to rainy, autumnal nights. Lucius liked to open the doors to his balcony and listen to the rain, sitting near enough to the fire that the draught didn't bother him. He would savour a glass or two of his favourite scotch and enjoy the peace and quiet. Only, something was disrupting the tranquil atmosphere; his wife. Narcissa had reprised her role as the lady of the house and was elegantly posed on the loveseat, a glass of wine dangling from her hand, as she discussed her latest outing with their son and his new wife. In many ways, it was as though she had never left, although Lucius now felt as though something was missing from the room. However, he didn't have time to dwell on this notion due to the need to focus on what it was that Narcissa was telling him.

There were two main aims behind her visit; to let Lucius know that although Draco refused to see him, she still held a special place in his heart (such point scoring was, he thought, a mark of an enduring marriage), and to probe him, in that subtle way of hers, for information about Daphne. The reason for her curiosity became abundantly clear.

"I came across a mutual acquaintance of ours at the theatre." Delicately, Narcissa sipped from her glass. Her engagement ring sparkled magnificently in the firelight. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had slipped it onto her slender finger. For better or for worse. Together, they had lived through the highs and lows of Lord Voldemort's two reigns of terror. Wedding vows failed to take into account what happened after all of the good and all of the bad had been used up.

"Oh?" He looked at her inquisitively. "And who might that be?"

"The Greengrass girl, and her older sister." The level of indifference laced through Narcissa's voice was impressive. Lucius was more or less certain that his wife the romantic side of his relationship with Daphne – knowing Narcissa, she would begin to set out the ground rules for what were and were not acceptable honours to be granted to Daphne for her new role in his life. And he couldn't blame her for it; she was every bit as ambitious as he was.

In some ways, Lucius recognised that he and his wife were perfectly matched. In others, however, they were worlds apart.

"I take it that Pansy didn't come into contact with either one of them?" The question was not entirely serious. Lucius knew enough about Daphne to predict that the theatre had been the last place she would have wanted to be, and could picture her shying away from Narcissa's scrutiny.

"Had that been the case, I'm certain that even _you _would have heard about it by now." Narcissa raised an eyebrow. Once, their endless power struggle had entertained him. Now it left Lucius exhausted.

"Touché, my dear." He raised his glass in a toast and drank, delighting in the burn of the whisky as it slipped through his throat.

"So it's serious, then?"

Lucius turned sharply, but Narcissa was observing the contents of her glass, her expression unreadable even to him. What love there had been between them had faded as time had passed, and their relationship became increasingly businesslike, which had suited them both. For a time.

"I-" Running a hand through his silken hair, Lucius sighed deeply.

"Is she playing you?" There was a protective quality in Narcissa's expression which made Lucius want to laugh. He considered the question carefully, knowing that a quick dismissal would only serve to arouse Narcissa's suspicion.

"I don't think so, no. Miss- Daphne is cunning, that much is certain, but she isn't capable of deceit." For a moment, Lucius pictured the uncertainty in Daphne's hazel eyes as she had observed him. No, she was definitely not a liar.

"And yet she interests you?" Narcissa glanced at him, an arch expression sculpted onto her features.

"Well, my dear, I've spent almost twenty five years with the most Machiavellian woman that England has seen for many a year." There was still the same immense satisfaction to be had in their verbal sparring, even if it did exasperate him.

"I wasn't under the impression that old dogs were capable of learning new tricks." Yet, she had conceded a smile, and it was understood that he had won – this round, anyway. "What are her aims?"

"Rather... rather naive, if truth be told." Now that Narcissa had at least accepted what was growing between him and Daphne, to an extent there was no harm in being open with her. In some regards, they would always be a pair; the Malfoys, united against... whatever it benefited them most to oppose.

"She can hold her own with you, Lucius, so you needn't worry about that." Narcissa shifted slightly in order to become more comfortable. "For all of her _many_ virtues, Miss Greengrass most certainly possesses a sharp set of claws."

Ignoring her faint hint of sarcasm, Lucius thought about his wife's point. Daphne had certainly stood her ground thus far, but he wasn't convinced that the clean, honest affair – and what an oxymoron that idea was – she had planned would really make Daphne happy. There was no way of knowing how she would reconcile his past with her present, and Lucius didn't wish to dwell on the possible outcomes of her trying to. His hand tightened almost imperceptibly on the arm rest of his leather chair.

"Hmm." Until he worked out his own opinion, there was no use in debating the point with Narcissa. She had a way of making things seem to be both simpler and yet more complicated than they actually were.

"And what are her terms?" Narcissa, it seemed, would not give an inch.

"Her terms?" Delicately, Lucius repeated the question. He wasn't sure how his wife would receive the notion of Daphne rejecting his offer – whether it would help or hinder him in their battle of wits.

"Yes. Her background is perfectly acceptable, and you've already come to an understanding with her, so I'd imagine that she'll be savvy enough to make her demands in good time." Narcissa frowned slightly, and he knew that her analytical mind was factoring the information she gathered tonight into her estimate of what various perks would be given to Daphne. The contrast between the two women was rather incredible, and although Narcissa had been right for him during the past, he couldn't help but think that Daphne, with her strange ways and underlying fragility, would prove to be a good choice for his present. Lucius didn't dare imagine a future.

"She didn't feel inclined to become my mistress." He wondered, even now, if Daphne understood how close she had come to injuring his pride.

The unflappable, unshakable Narcissa choked on her drink. She tried to cover it by coughing delicately, and if he hadn't known her mannerisms better than his own, the odds were that Lucius wouldn't have noticed

"Oh."

"Yes. She wishes for us to be... ah, that is to say that-" He didn't know how to phrase it. There literally wasn't a single phrase befitting a man of his dignity.

The word 'girlfriend' was simply too distasteful for him to contemplate using it to describe anything even vaguely relevant to his life. Girlfriends were for boys like Draco – silly little witches who pouted and giggled, filled with an endless supply of inane comments. And _boyfriends_ were dramatic, pubescent males motivated by a combination of testosterone and the desire to string together a few uninspiring sentences about quidditch.

"You're dating her?" After having overcome her initial shock, it appeared that Narcissa wasn't going to be phased by anything. Lucius got the impression that he could announce his intention to begin writing a column for _Witch Weekly_ and she wouldn't have batted an eyelash.

"Well, yes." It wasn't as painful an admission as he would have anticipated, although Narcissa's phrasing had caused him to wince slightly. "It was her suggestion..."

"It takes two to tango, as you well know." Narcissa took another sip of her drink and sat the empty glass on the table. "Miss Greengrass does have some verve, although not nearly as much as one might hope for."

She stood, her jewels sparkling in the firelight, and prepared to leave.

"Narcissa? I'll speak to her about it as soon as it seems germane to broach the subject." He watched as his wife swept from the room without glancing backwards, leaving him to his thoughts. "Thank you, my dear."

**OoOoO**

After a hearty breakfast and a headache-relief potion, Lucius felt as though he had completely recovered from the previous night's drinking. He donned his favourite travel cloak, summoned his cane and apparated into the heart of London. When he stepped from the alleyway, Lucius saw that the day was mild and the streets were busy, people filled with purpose strolling in every direction. Tightening his hold on his cane, Lucius tried not to remember a time when his appearance would have triggered a string of deferential greetings and respectful nods. Now, he was all but invisible as he passed through the streets. It was just as well – he didn't want people to witness the shame that the following encounter would almost doubtlessly leave him reeling from.

It was pure folly, but he had given up on Draco once, at a time when it had mattered most, and had vowed never to do so again. Lucius inhaled the cool air, willing it to calm him. He knew that he didn't deserve his son's forgiveness.

His cane tapped rhythmically against the cobblestones, and Lucius allowed it to distract him from thoughts of what was surely to come. He rounded the corner and began to make his way through a higher calibre of residential area, taking in the stately townhouses on either side of the street. Of course, Lucius recognised the local witches and wizards who were embarking upon some unknown errand or other – he had spent the better part of his life socialising with them or their parents – but when they passed one another, both parties would look onwards without meeting the other's gaze. If they pretended that the past they had shared had never existed, then perhaps it would simply fade from reality – unlikely, yet the best hope that they had.

A lot sooner than he was prepared for, Lucius arrived at the house he knew to be inhabited by his son and daughter-in-law; after all, it was he who footed the majority of their bills. He climbed the stone stairway slowly. He lifted his cane and tapped the metal head twice against the door, ignoring the brass knocker.

The door swung open, and Lucius peered down his nose at the house elf standing before him. The servant was attired in a plain white pillowcase, the Malfoy emblem embossed proudly on the front.

"Can Kale help you, sir?"

"Are Mr Malfoy and his wife at home?" There was a pause. "Well?"

The elf hesitated, and Lucius narrowed his eyes.

"Who might Kale ask is calling?" The elf, unless he was very much mistaken, had started to tremble ever so slightly. Had he not a reputation to uphold, Lucius would have struck the creature with his cane and marched into the house.

"Mr Malfoy the senior, true master of this house and, indeed, every servant of said house." Threateningly, he fingered the tip of his cane as though making to withdraw his wand. Lucius wouldn't enter the house by force, but the elf didn't know that. It continued to quake before him, literally frozen with fear. "Tell my son that I stopped by."

Without waiting to see what the elf's response would be, Lucius turned and swept down onto the pavement, his cloak billowing behind him as a cold gust of wind blew through the streets. Ignoring other pedestrians, Lucius strode away from the house unswervingly, refusing to break his gait and forcing others to leap from his path. The hostile comments provoked by his behaviour were met with his iciest glare. A mother pushing a pram skidded aside; a young couple holding hands were forced to separate; a gaggle of teenage girls had to part, forcing their conversation to halt momentarily as they scattered. One of the girls brandished her wand, which had sparks trailing from the tip, and shouted such profanities that Lucius turned to stare, horrified that anyone would lower themselves by creating such a public spectacle.

The young witch's abusive tirade was cut short as Lucius collided with a solid mass, struggling not to trip over his cane. He managed to retain his footing, but the person levitating the sizeable wooden crate was not so fortunate. Her foot caught on a cobblestone, and Lucius watched as the contents of her box soared from their previous resting place. Without the obstruction, he realised belatedly that it was Daphne, her face a perfect mask of horror as gravity came into play, dragging dozens of vials towards the ground.

Reacting as quickly as he could, Lucius flicked his wand and caught her potions, suspending them in mid-air.

"Lucius, I... thank you." Lowering her wand, Daphne let the crate fall to the ground and dropped to her knees, scrambling to recover her creations. She lowered them individually into the straw that the box contained, inspecting every one of them for damage.

As undignified as it was for her to kneel in the middle of a street, Lucius couldn't help but admire her dedication, and the way in which the sunlight caused her hair to adopt an almost reddish tint. The more he looked at Daphne, the more he noticed – she wasn't the labyrinth of complexities that formed Narcissa, but to call her simple would be to do her a disservice.

His train of thought was interrupted by the guffawing of the group of girls – a crude and unwelcome intrusion. Eager to escape their notice, Lucius waved his wand once more and send each of the vials past Daphne for inspection and into the box. She shot him a grateful smile that, for a moment, he was almost tempted to return.

"Why, in the name of Merlin's grey and untamed beard, have you deigned to carry a box full of potions through the streets of London?" Lucius couldn't bring himself to keep the incredulity from his tone. "It's a task worthy of a house elf, not a witch."

_A pureblood witch_, he wanted to add – not that it would have achieved anything.

Daphne's smile faded, and her expression hardened as she stood, wiping the dust from the knees of her grey slacks. She stared at him openly, as though trying to solve a puzzle.

"You see, the ingredients in these potions are extremely volatile, and so I can't afford to risk transporting them through the floo network. Also, if I apparate, then it's likely that some will fall, wasting days of work." She spoke in a slow, measured voice as though addressing a small child. "A portkey carries the same risks, I'm afraid."

"I'm well aware of that, Daphne, having received an education befitting of my -" The words died in his mouth. For all of his life, working in a reminder or two of his status had been second nature to Lucius, yet he could no longer do so, because he had no rank of which to speak. A surge of bitterness swept through his veins.

As she realised what Lucius had almost said, Daphne's eyes widened. She opened her mouth, closing it again when no words came out. Steeling himself for a confrontation, Lucius prepared to listen to her pass judgement on him as he had done her.

"I – I have to take these potions to Temperance. She only lives a few houses away. Are you coming?" Her voice was slightly shaky as she cast the charm to levitate her box once more; however Daphne gave no other outward signs of what she was feeling.

Stunned, Lucius followed her, retracing his earlier footsteps. Mercifully, the crowing girls had moved on.

"Very well." He spoke stiffly, not understanding the direction their conversation seemed to have taken.

"I'm s-"

"Don't apologise. The fault is not of your making." Lucius placed a gloved hand on her elbow, as though to make certain that Daphne was still walking beside him.

"Would you like to know what it is that I'm carrying?" There was a bright quality to Daphne's voice that he suspected was more than slightly forced. She was, he knew, speaking to prevent a silence from descending between them. As much as he loathed banal conversation starters, Lucius didn't have the heart to deliver a negative answer. It almost was impossible to predict what would draw Daphne closer and what would push her away. "I know that you're not especially interested, but I'm going to tell you anyway; wolfsbane potion."

"Oh, how very charitable of you." Lucius couldn't quite keep himself from sneering.

"Charitable?" Daphne huffed, causing her fringe to ruffle. "Don't be ridiculous; it's one of the most valued potions on the market. Don't you see? It's in high demand and short supply, which makes it an extremely profitable potion to brew, for the few capable of producing it successfully."

As much as it pained him to admit it, Daphne's logic made perfect sense. Of course, the thought of werewolves still made his skin crawl – even Greyback had disgusted him, when they had served on the same side – but it was a clever business venture.

"And you're one of those select few, are you?" Amusement and surprise coloured his tone. He hadn't expected Daphne to be so skilled, although he no longer knew why. Conscious that they were mere houses away from his son's residence, Lucius felt his good humour fade as he followed Daphne to the door.

"So it would seem," Daphne ducked her head modestly, "Although I still have a lot to learn."

"You have less to learn than most." The door opened, and Temperance lifted the crate from the air without use of magic, hauling it into the corridor. He heard glass knock against glass as she set it down on a rickety old table. Daphne winced. "Isn't that right, Malfoy?"

Temperance obviously didn't expect an answer – she slammed the door shut before either one of them could speak.

"Thank you." Daphne directed a small, uncertain smile at the door.

He had been about to reply when he noticed Draco and Pansy descending the small flight of stairs outside of their front door, arm in arm. They were both so deeply involved in their conversation that neither once looked up as they passed by. Lucius watched them until they disappeared around the corner. As far as Lucius could tell, his son was enjoying married life. He would need to ask Narcissa how Draco and Pansy were getting along – she had always been the more perceptive, regarding their son.

"Aren't you going to attempt to tail them; follow my son on behalf of your sister?" Lucius rolled his eyes. He didn't understand how someone quite as stubborn as Daphne could allow themselves to be dragged along and included in such foolish schemes. He felt her arm slip through his, and in his surprise allowed Daphne to lead him across the street.

"Ha bloody ha." Daphne frowned. "Hang on; how do you know about that?"

"How do you think?" He knew that she was more than capable of guessing, if she looked beyond her initial shock, and he wanted Daphne to consider his wife's ongoing role in his life.

"Narcissa." Her frown had eased, yet a slight crease remained on Daphne's forehead. "And what did she say?"

"A number of things, chief amongst which was her desire to know what all you plan on laying claim to." Stepping in front of her, Lucius placed a finger against Daphne's lips to stem the tirade that he knew to be imminent. "However much you initially disliked the idea, you ought to reconsider it – think of it as an opportunity."

"You... are an opportunity?" Daphne considered the point for a moment, her head tilted to the side. "Yes, I suppose you are – not, however, in the way that you're doubtlessly thinking of."

"No?" Lucius raised an eyebrow, unable to decipher her meaning.

"No." Shaking her head, Daphne didn't elaborate. "Tell Narcissa... tell her that if, in the future, I want to accompany you to any sort of event, formal or otherwise, then she is to let it be so. She can keep your money and your houses and whatever else it is that you choose to give her."

"That's it?" Incredulous, he stared at her. With defiance in her eyes, Daphne held his gaze.

"If you choose to look at it that way, then yes; that's it." Realising that Lucius hadn't a chance of understanding her, Daphne rolled her eyes and pulled him into the park. "It's a beautiful day – we ought to make the most of it."

"You know, she's either going to think that you're extremely generous or extremely foolish." As they strolled though the park, he was forced to puzzle over Daphne's motives. She seemed to have no qualms about being linked with him; in fact, as Lucius watched her observing the plants lining the walkway, he could only conclude that she was enjoying herself.

"And what do you think?" Daphne rested her head against his shoulder momentarily, as though such actions were as natural as breathing.

"I... am undecided, as of yet."

Daphne tossed back her head and laughed. In spite of the cold, Lucius was left feeling warm.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Please, please leave me a review if you've subscribed to or added this story to your list of favourites. Otherwise, Bellatrix Lestrange will hunt you down. It won't be pretty.**

**OoOoO**

Unaware that the chair she was occupying had once been the favourite of her predecessor, Daphne leant back into the loveseat and considered her surroundings. During Draco's wedding, the guests had been seated in what could only be described as a ballroom, and for their rather informal suppers together, Lucius always brought her to his own wing of the house. She had tried to hint, as subtly as possible, that she would appreciate a tour of the Malfoy manor, but as of yet Lucius had either failed to understand her meaning or decided to ignore the request. Although she tried not to dwell on it – Lucius was, after all, an extremely private person – Daphne couldn't help but feel slighted. She had made it clear that she didn't want any part of his fortune, so it wasn't as though she would be sizing up the property.

Lucius stared into the distance, a deep grown gracing his patrician features. It was clear that something was weighing on his mind, yet Daphne was unsure if she would be overstepping the bounds of their relationship if she questioned him – she had an idea of what was bothering him. Draco had swept past his father without noticing him. It was strange that Lucius hadn't called out to his son or tried to speak to him, and Daphne had been silently puzzling over the matter all afternoon. She had picked up that they weren't on the best of term (she could count the number of times he had mentioned Draco to her on one hand) however there was something unnatural about the lack of effort to communicate. Lucius had been walking along the street where his son lived with a casual demeanour, and it seemed bizarre that he should be in such close proximity to his son without visiting.

It wasn't as though he was comfortable with the decision, either; she could tell that it was bothering Lucius – although he hadn't allowed himself to express his displeasure, his grey eyes had clouded over and he had spoken even less than he was ordinarily inclined to do. When he had faltered earlier, almost making a reference to his former social standing, Daphne had found that she couldn't remain angry with him and had managed to overlook it. However, she suspected that Lucius was rebuking himself for it, and whatever it was that had passed between him and Draco.

Daphne knew that she hadn't always done the right thing, especially during her final year at Hogwarts. However, Lucius had made far more wrong decisions than she had and Daphne suspected that they were at the root of what was troubling him.

"What are you thinking about?" Daphne considered him carefully. For a moment it seemed as though Lucius hadn't heard her, but then he blinked and turned slowly to face her.

"Nothing for you to be overly concerned about." Lucius watched her as though trying to discern whether or not she would let his preoccupation slip.

"Are you sure?" Much as Daphne had expected, he refused to dignify her question with an answer. Feeling his focus shift once more towards melancholy thoughts, she spoke again, "Because I had thought of something that would cheer you up. However, if nothing is the matter then I'll head on home; I could even fit in a little bit of research before I go to bed..."

She stood up and stretched languidly, ignoring the feeling of Lucius' eyes upon her.

"If you're not interested in my idea, then I'll see you tomorrow." She crossed the room and leant down to press a kiss against his cheek. "Goodnight."

When Daphne made to rise, he kept hold of her wrist and pulled her closer. His expression made it clear that he wasn't going to release her until she had told him what it was that she had in mind. However she simply smiled provocatively, determined that Lucius was going to have to verbalise his curiosity. Not that he always appreciated such power play from her...

"What are you planning?" Realising that it was going to take some convincing on his part, Lucius sighed. He tucked a strand of hair behind Daphne's ear, willing her to understand his recalcitrance. "The world is... different, and I am set in my ways – nothing you were not already aware of, my dear."

"Lucius, I -" She shook her head, unable to articulate the thoughts that were running through her head. She wanted him to know that he was capable of coping with the changes that had been wrought on their world. Gently, she caressed the side of his face, knowing that he wouldn't be at all receptive to her words. "I want to show you something and now's the perfect time."

Met by no resistance, Daphne straightened and wandered towards the door at the back of the room.

"What could you possibly have to show me in my own bedroom?" Intrigued, Lucius stood. As Daphne unbuttoned her robes, understanding dawned. "Oh."

Satisfied that she had Lucius' attention, Daphne let her forest green robes fall in a pool around her feet. Since the night of Draco and Pansy's wedding, there had been nothing that couldn't have been described as strictly honourable between them. Without any liquid courage running through her veins, Daphne was a little apprehensive about what she was initiating; Lucius made her feel safe and wanted, yet there was so much about him that she didn't understand, and then there was the fact that he had been married to Narcissa, which would have raised his standards when it came to beauty considerably.

It was a step that she definitely wanted them to take, however Daphne felt more than a little nervous. As Lucius followed her into the master bedroom, she climbed onto his bed in her underwear. The sheets were cool and soft against her bare legs. In order to stall, Daphne toyed with the tassels on one of the cushions.

"Come and sit with me." Daphne patted the space beside her.

She watched as Lucius sank down onto the edge of the mattress, kicking off his shoes. He joined her in the middle of the bed, resting comfortably against the pillows and wrapped an arm around her waist. The subtle pressure Lucius exerted forced her to sit back too, and after a moment she relaxed against him.

"What are _you_ thinking about?" He brushed Daphne's fringe back and kissed her forehead. Although Lucius was most definitely teasing her, there was an underlying seriousness behind his eyes. "And what has prompted this... unexpected, undeniably welcome turn of events? Hmm?"

"Why not?" Shrugging, Daphne feigned flippancy. "There's nothing to stop us."

Bid personal discussions had never been his forté, and so Lucius chose to question her no farther. He rolled on top of her and kissed her deeply until Daphne's shyness was the last thing on her mind.

**OoOoO**

Warm and heavy with sleep, Daphne opened her eyes slowly. She could see Lucius Malfoy's bedroom through a sea of the pinks and greys that heralded dawn. It felt as though time had been suspended. The room was cool as the fire had long since burned out in the hearth, although she could feel the heat of Lucius, who lay asleep by her side. For a moment Daphne was afraid to move, unwilling to break the spell, but curiosity got the best of her and she turned to lie on her side in order to get a better look at him.

Lucius was just as attractive in the half-light of morning as he was during the day or night. The only difference was that his eyes, behind which there was always something going on, were closed. He was at rest. Daphne suspected that the only time he wasn't calculating something or other was when he was asleep. Without the intensity of his gaze upon her, Daphne also noticed the fine lines of age setting in around his eyes and mouth. She was tempted to reach out and brush his strong patrician jaw, to feel the stubble beneath her fingertips. However, she didn't want to risk waking him – not yet, at any rate.

Even in sleep, there was a certain tense quality to Lucius. It was as though his cunning was coiled up inside him like a spring weighed down by too many thoughts, ready to expand. He was not unguarded, and yet Lucius was altogether easy to examine. Rumpled by sleep, his hair fanned across the pillow. Daphne wondered if he would allow her to brush it, or even if he would allow her to stay long enough to do so.

She sat a little straighter, balancing the idea of staying and savouring every last moment in bed with him against going and preserving her pride. Lucius had been adamant that he wanted her with him all through the night, but with their passion sated, he might not take such a rosy view. When he had left her to wake up in an unfamiliar environment, Daphne had felt unwanted; thinking of it still put her on edge. Deep down, she knew she didn't have it in her to do the same to Lucius.

And then the answer came to her: he had been afraid of her rejection in the harsh light of day. Although Daphne had her pride, it was almost inconsequential when compared to his. Also, Lucius had suffered during the war. It seemed unimaginable that there could ever come a time at which she would feel comfortable asking him about his experiences, so much had the war damaged Lucius. Every moment she spent with him, Daphne knew that underneath it all was the ache of all that he had lost.

She gasped, realising that his eyes were open, narrow with tiredness, and that Lucius was openly watching her.

"Going somewhere?" His silky tones were roughened by sleep, yet his voice still held a certain power over her.

"N-no." Suppressing a yawn, Daphne slid back between the sheets and was gratified to feel Lucius draping a possessive arm around her. It was a deliberately careless gesture, and Daphne knew him well enough to understand that he wanted her close by.

Wrapping herself around him, Daphne nestled her head against his chest and inhaled, breathing in his scent. She stroked the inside of his arm with a touch that made him shiver until she reached forearm. Out of shock more than anything, Daphne paused in her ministrations long enough to draw Lucius' attention. She felt him tense. Taking a risk, she grabbed on to his left arm. Upon reflection, he had taken care to conceal the Dark Mark from her on both of their nights together, a realisation that added to Daphne's strength. After a brief struggle, Lucius gave in and stared blankly at the canvas overhanging his bed.

"You ought to go."

"Why? Because you took the Dark Mark? Because you were a Death Eater?" Daphne shifted, still cradling his branded arm. "I knew those things before, didn't I? And I stayed."

"You knew, however you most certainly didn't understand and I hope for your sake that you never will." Once again, he tried to wrench his arm free of her. Resolute, Daphne hung on. "It was written all over your face."

"I'd never seen a Dark Mark before. To be honest, I don't know what I expected. It's just skin, Lucius." She continued to brush along the inside of his arm, down the palm of his hand and the tip of his fingers, before working her way back up again. The tattoo was faded but still dark enough to stand out against the paleness of his flesh. Daphne continued the motion until Lucius ceased to flinch when she touched the Mark. "There."

"You foolish, foolish girl," Scorn and disbelief coloured his tone, both of which she chose to ignore. "Why in the name of Merlin do you insist on... on persisting with your ways?"

"Why?" Daphne closed her eyes, self-preservation long since gone. The words were barely more than whispered, yet they carried around the room. "Because I love you."

For a moment, Lucius stopped breathing – there was no steady rise and fall of his chest. She heard him swallow. After several tense seconds, he began to caress her hair.

"Go to sleep, you foolish girl." The insult had no bite to it, not that she had taken it personally. Daphne smiled to herself as she felt a gentle kiss being pressed to the curve of her shoulder.

She did as Lucius instructed, knowing that in his own distant way, Lucius cared for her too.

**OoOoO**

It had been a struggle to get up, even if the weather outside was glorious. Still, Daphne had an appointment with Temperance and had promised to meet Astoria in town. Her younger sister had been pestering her for days on end to come out and dress up nicely, and so Daphne had given in. Now that their meeting was drawing closer, she was beginning to regret agreeing to it due to the fact that there was almost inevitably a catch to even the most innocent of Astoria's requests.

After having showered and dressed (albeit with a few delays along the way) – Lucius had, without her knowing, sent a house elf to go and fetch a fresh outfit from her wardrobe – she joined him in the garden for an alfresco breakfast. The romantic gesture coupled with the fact that there were several albino peacocks strutting around the lawns made it a surreal experience. There was a tranquil atmosphere in the gardens, once Daphne ceased to be overwhelmed by their grandeur, and she appreciated the simplicity of her English breakfast.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Daphne wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, noticing the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Daphne," He took her hand and kissed it. "I'll confess that I wish that I had not taken involuntary retirement. You have a certain zeal for your apprenticeship, even if it is... a questionable use of your time."

"Oh, Lucius – you almost managed to say something complimentary about my career choice. Be still my beating heart." She kissed him playfully, knowing exactly how irritated he was becoming. "Maybe one day, with just a little bit of luck, you'll respect my ambition to become a Potions Mistress."

"You know that I do." He shifted out of her grasp. "So go and enjoy your manual labour, if you must, before I decide that I have more respect for your body."

"Hold that thought." With a final kiss, Daphne disapparated, leaving Lucius to his thoughts.

She loved him.

In that warm, energetic and occasionally uncouth way of hers, Daphne loved him – without reservation. It was deeply flattering, although Lucius had no wish to examine why. She was pleasant company and understood him well enough not to question his lack of response to her proclamation. There was also the way in which she had accepted his past without questioning him.

Shaking his head, Lucius dropped his napkin onto his plate. He was going soft. Seeing a small flock of owls approaching his home, Lucius went inside. Even though he no longer worked for the Ministry, he preferred to keep on top of his various correspondences. There was nothing to be achieved by sitting outside in the sunshine.

**OoOoO**

Feeling ridiculously over-groomed and exhausted after having brewed skele-grow, Daphne was not in the best of moods as she stepped into the bar. She didn't even pretend to feel otherwise as she slipped into the booth across from her sister – Astoria had deliberately chosen a high end bar, and Daphne was trying to save every knut for when she finished her apprenticeship and would be in a position to set up her own potions laboratory. And it wasn't going to happen any time soon if she kept on throwing money away on fripperies. If she used her parents' gold then she would be viewed as no more than a privileged girl playing at a career, not a capable brewer of potions.

Astoria seemed to have no such problem with the concept. As always, she was clad in a set of robes that Daphne hadn't seen before, a string of emeralds around her throat. Although she had finally stopped wearing her engagement band, the hands of the younger Greengrass sister were adorned with a chic selection of rings.

"Daphne!" Astoria stood, kissing her sister's cheek. "You look marvellous."

"You're always so surprised – try not to be." Noticing that her sister had bought her a gillywater – a strangely considerate thing for Astoria to have done – Daphne smiled. "Thank you."

"No problem. It's... well, you were so good to me about what happened, and I wanted to do something nice for you in return." Slipping out of the booth, Astoria fumbled with her handbag, not quite meeting Daphne's gaze. "I'm just going to get a drink, okay?"

Before Daphne could respond, she disappeared from view. Merlin only knew what her sister had planned for her. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of her seat.

"Hello there, Daphne. I guess that you did miss me after all."

Startled, she opened her eyes to see Theodore Nott sitting across from her. Immediately, it became clear what Astoria had done: sought to repay her sister in the best way she could think of by trying to set her up on a date with the only wizard she had known Daphne to have feelings for.

"Theo, what are you doing here?" Daphne's mind was racing. The bar was a high profile location filled with high profile people, and it would circulate around the pureblood families within no time that she had been seen back with Theodore Nott. Everyone would know, and nobody sooner than Narcissa, who was bound to tell her husband...

"You asked me to be here – don't play games with me, Greengrass." Theodore eyed her in a way that clearly said he would like nothing better than to play games with her, although not of a variety suitable for a public place. "Your sister told me, and I figured that it was the same old Daphne – too stubborn to admit that she'd lost a good thing. So I decided to come along and see for myself what else there is that's the same about you, and what's different."

He grinned, exuding an air of confidence. Admittedly, his dark eyes and floppy brown hair made him an attractive young man, and Daphne was reminded of what it was that had caused her to seek him out during the darker days of the war. It had been good but it hadn't been right, and she knew it.

"You're quite mistaken. Astoria wanted to – oh, never mind. The point is that I hadn't expected to meet you here, nor would I have agreed to it. What we had is over. Goodnight." Standing, Daphne shouldered her bag and stalked away before Theodore could protest. Too angry to speak, she simply glared at Astoria, who had the good grace to look away, as she passed.

For all they argued, Lucius trusted his wife implicitly. For years they operated as a cool, calculating unit and for a few blessed years they'd had the world to show for it. It was unimaginable that he'd ever trust her like he did Narcissa when he could barely bring himself to discuss anything personal with her. Pushing open the door, Daphne strode around the corner into a nearby alley, disapparating as soon as she was hidden from view, determined that she would reach Lucius before any rumours that his wife might choose to share.

She arrived outside the gates of Malfoy Manor and didn't flinch as she passed through them; it was like platform nine and three quarters – the more times she did it, the easier it became. Lucius had instructed her to let herself into the house as she saw fit, and slowly she was beginning to find that she had almost no difficulty in doing so, as he was almost inevitably glad of her company.

Feeling altogether too impatient to bother with propriety, Daphne climbed the stairs as quickly as she could – it wasn't as though he'd see her and make a critical remark, at least nothing more cutting than he could possibly have to say about her meeting with Theodore, however accidental. Lucius almost always spent evenings in his study with a book, or studying documents that most likely pertained to the running of his estate.

Ignoring the disapproving muttering and stares of the portraits, Daphne continued to run until she reached the study door, precariously balanced in her impractical heels. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, she paused when she heard voices.

"... with her sister, to the best of my understanding." Lucius sounded impatient. Curious about the object of his ire, she remained hidden.

"You never were naive, so don't start pretending now. Right now she's most likely batting her lashes at the Nott boy, playing you for a fool -"

Having heard enough, Daphne pushed open the door, feigning surprise as she caught sight of Narcissa Malfoy. She was glad that she had worn her new dress robes, because as always Narcissa was formidable in her beauty.

"Oh, I see that you're busy... would you like me to come back later?"

"Yes." Narcissa glared at her. "Go back to whatever tasteless little gathering that you were enjoying."

Surprised by the older witch's venom, Daphne wavered, taking a step backwards. This was Draco's mother in front of her.

"No, that won't be necessary. In fact, your timing is perfect, my dear – Narcissa was on her way out to yet another one of her pressing social appointments." He bestowed a smile that did not reach his cold, grey eyes upon his wife, who returned the gesture just as bitterly. "As always, it was a delight to have you stop by."

It seemed as though the air around Daphne chilled as Narcissa brushed by her, not sparing the younger witch a single look as she departed. She listened as Narcissa's footsteps echoed throughout the corridor and then faded, trying to gauge Lucius' reaction to the news he had evidently received.

"I didn't know that he would be there." Daphne crossed the room, taking his hand in hers. Lucius did not resist, nor did he return the gesture.

"What transpired between you and young Mr Nott?"

"Nothing! I left as soon as I realised that I'd been set up -"

"I didn't mean this evening." Lucius frowned slightly, dropping her hand.

As he turned his back on her and began preparing himself a drink, Daphne felt sick with worry. It was true that she lacked Narcissa's influence, however she had thought he had believed her about loving him, or at least thought enough of her not to let his wife poison whatever pleasure he found with her.

"It was loneliness. We were all so very lonely, during our final year. It didn't do to admit weakness, not even to one another, in case the Carrows used it against us." She watched as Lucius paused, wishing she could decipher his moods with greater ease. "He talked Astoria out of trouble a couple of times – you know how she is; no stomach for anything that takes the shine off her world. And when I thanked him, we talked. One thing led to another... It was nothing serious, but I think that we both needed it at the time."

Awaiting his judgement, Daphne fidgeted with the beading of her bag. She wished that if he wanted rid of her, he would simply say so and be done with it, yet she didn't want him to speak at all.

"I see. It is hardly what could be described as an original beginning to passion, in such circumstances." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Also, in light of information that has recently been brought to my attention, I am obliged to tell you that my... affection for you is not without due cause or reason."

Astonished, Daphne simply stared at him. Belatedly, she realised that he was expecting a response and moved closer to him. Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her head against the silken back of his waistcoat.

"Thank you."

It wasn't the reaction she had expected – far from it – for which she was glad.

"Enough of your sentimentality, Daphne. Tell me about something rational – your research, for instance." Pointedly, he ignored her smile and resumed his place on the armchair.

Daphne did as she was requested, feeling buoyant with the knowledge that Lucius Malfoy truly did care for it. Perhaps he would never feel comfortable expressing it, or even feeling it in the first place, however Daphne was satisfied that their relationship was on an even footing.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**If you decide to favourite or alert this story without having left me a review, then I sincerely hope that you either change your ways. Reviews mean more to writers than Lucius does to Daphne.**

**OoOoO**

Daphne arrived home, arms laden with books, to discover a large package on her coffee table. She cursed, staggering into her kitchenette to dispense the priceless tomes on the counter, before investigating more closely. She fell into her favourite chair, levitating the package so that it came to rest on her lap. Carefully, Daphne unknotted the string that held the brown wrapping in place. It fell away to reveal a rectangular mahogany box with a padlock attached to the front. The lid was inlaid with a mother of pearl mosaic of a flower, which Daphne thought was a little ostentatious and completely Astoria.

Lifting the key from the paper, she unlocked the box and sure enough there was a brief note bearing Astoria's curling script:

'_Sorry!'_

Rolling her eyes, Daphne set it aside in order to continue with her investigation. It was a case for storing particularly precious or volatile potions. There bottom of the box was sectioned into twelve, and in each was a crystal vial. Unbreakable, and highly valuable – the contents of the box had been advertised in every Potions journal and, of course, Daphne had looked on covetously. At the time, she had been sorely tempted to withdraw money from the account into which her parents sent her allowance. However, as always, Daphne had resisted. Astoria knew no such restraint. It was easy to picture her younger sister, who had scraped an OWL in the subject, strolling into the Apothecary and asking for something costly yet worthwhile. Daphne had to admit that although her sister hadn't exactly funded the present herself, it had been well considered – much more so than the 'present' of Theodore, who had sent her two owls in the last week.

Despite herself, Daphne felt her anger lessen. Logically, she understood that Astoria couldn't have anticipated the potential damage done to Lucius Malfoy's opinion – his affection for her, as he had phrased it – of her, or how much it would have impacted her. Yet Astoria was always determined to meddle in her life. If there was a grand show of an apology now, there would be another 'good deed' backfiring within the next couple of months.

Bemused, Daphne set the box down on her coffee table and reached for the sheaves of parchment baring the research she was supposed to be studying. Of their own volition, her eyes would look upwards and linger on her newest possession as she considered each of the points made on the reactivity of asphodel. Once she had formed her own opinions and made suitable notes, Daphne lifted one of the books from her kitchen table and summoned two pairs of dress robes from her wardrobe (she wanted her outfit to compliment Lucius') before taking the floo network to Malfoy Manor.

"Hello?" Stepping out of the fireplace, Daphne was surprised to find herself in the foyer.

Apparently Lucius wasn't in his parlour, as the fire hadn't been stoked in order to keep it burning. There was no answer. This could either be because Lucius disapproved of raised voices or he simply wasn't within hearing range. Intrigued, Daphne climbed the stairs. She had only ever entered his bedroom via the adjoining door in his lounge, and so now she sought the main entrance to Malfoy Manor's master bedroom. Continuing along the corridor's rich carpets, all of which ran through the halls of the house like a plush red arterial system, Daphne attempted to remain focussed on the task at hand rather than the sumptuous decor. After all, none of the portraits were interested in helping her locate Lucius.

After looping around the corridor that led to his lounge, Daphne found what she knew to be the doors to the master bedroom. There was a certain forbidding look to the mahogany panels, the handles of which consisted of coiled serpents cast in silver. Shaking her head in order to banish her more foolish thoughts, Daphne knocked on the door before pushing it open.

Lucius was buttoning a charcoal smoking jacket, intent on fastening it until he caught site of her in the mirror before him. His expression softened slightly, however he frowned at the irreverence with which Daphne dumper her belongings on his bed. Coming to stand behind him, Daphne wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let her cheek rest against the silken curtain of his hair.

"I've missed you." He made no response, but the lack of contradiction was enough to let Daphne know that he didn't disagree. "I'm looking forward to dinner, because I haven't had time to eat since breakfast."

"Speaking of dinner, I... Ah -"

"You're cancelling?" Surprise coloured Daphne's tone. She had no idea what else Lucius could be planning on doing with his time. As a social pariah, he generally avoided spending too much time in public places, and yet he was getting dressed up.

"I was often forced to do so when I had plans with Narcissa and as regrettable as it may be, I have no other choice." He moved away from her and lifted a set of cufflinks from a dish on his dresser. For a few moments Daphne watched him and realised that Lucius was not angry so much as tense.

"I don't mind. It's only that I hadn't expected it." As though to prove her point, Daphne assisted him in the fastening of his cufflink and adjusted his cravat. "There."

"I don't know when I will return – it could be a matter of hours or even a day or two." Lucius paused, opening a drawer and removing a velvet ribbon. Wordlessly, Daphne took it from his and set about tying his hair back. She savoured its smooth texture and allowed it to divert her from the disappointment she felt. "You are welcome to remain here in my home, should you choose to do so, and the house elves will cater to your every need."

It was the closest to an apology that Lucius would come, and Daphne was pleased by his offer. She finished tying his ribbon in place and stood back to examine her handiwork. Apparently Lucius was satisfied, and perhaps even a little amused by her enthusiasm if the way that the corner of his mouth twitched was any indication. As Daphne spent more time with him, she became increasingly adept at picking up on his subtle ways of expressing emotion before he had time to repress his feelings.

"I'd like that very much." The prospect of the library of the Malfoy Manor was highly appealing, and Daphne was particularly keen to explore the texts on Potions; she was willing to lay down her last galleon that Lucius' collection contained rare, prized and possibly even illegal tomes on the art. However, not even books were enough to distract her from Lucius' appearance. "Are you going somewhere special?"

"No, the location is hardly what I'd call interesting." Evading her questioning, Lucius lifted his wand from the bed and slid it into his ever-present cane.

"What about the people? Anyone I know?" Daphne fell backwards onto the bed, positioned so that he had no choice but to look at her. She heard Lucius give an irritated sigh.

"Nobody you could claim to know intimately."

"And you do know them intimately?" All traces of her previous playfulness vanished, and Daphne clambered awkwardly from the mattress, not caring that she had crumpled both sets of robes in the process, so that she was standing before him. "Narcissa's going to be there, isn't she?"

"And what if she is? For all intents and purposes, Narcissa is my wife." With visible effort, Lucius bit back his irritation as he sensed her hurt. However, the damage was done. "Daphne, meeting with Narcissa isn't my motivation here -"

"Save it for someone who gives a damn – your precious wife." She could scarcely believe that she had spoken to Lucius in such a way. If Lucius was surprised by her words, he didn't show it, his eyes hardening into a cool metallic glare.

"Clearly, I have overestimated you. It appears that Narcissa was correct about more than I had given her credit for. I turned a blind eye to whatever sordid kind of meeting it was that you chose to indulge in with that Nott boy -" Contempt coloured his tone as Lucius spoke of Theodore, which sent Daphne reeling.

She had thought that Lucius trusted her.

Apparently not.

"_Theodore?_ I can't believe you. I told you everything that there was to tell – a concept with which you're most certainly not _intimately_ acquainted – and it didn't even occur to me to go back to him. Merlin knows why, because for all of his faults, Theo always treated me like an equal – like I was good enough to be with him."

Daphne stormed from the room without looking back, knowing instinctively that he would choose his engagement over following her. At the end of the day, Lucius would always find something more important to focus on than her. Unwilling to leave, Daphne sunk onto the bottom step of the grand staircase, the marble of the banister cool against her forehead. She wiped her eyes angrily, hating that she couldn't manage to summon enough rage against Lucius to leave him one final time.

"Why do you do this to me?" Her hushed whisper echoed against the walls, the only reply that Daphne expected to receive.

"It isn't intentional." Daphne stiffened but didn't turn, trying to wipe her cheeks as subtly as she could. Slowly, Lucius descended the stairwell, his cane tapping against the marble decisively. Cautiously, he rested a hand on the banister. When Daphne didn't move away, he allowed it to rest on her shoulder.

"That's not really an answer." Sniffing dejectedly, Daphne closed her eyes. She opened them only when a soft scrap of material landed in her lap, the letters _L.M._ embroidered in the corner.

"No, it's not. We can discuss this matter upon my return." His voice was without identifiable expression, and Daphne wasn't brave enough to look him in the eye.

"You're not kicking me out, then?" Daphne's knuckles were white around the handkerchief.

"Foolish girl." Gently, he brushed her hair back from her forehead for a few sweet seconds. "I am already late. I trust that you'll make yourself comfortable in my absence."

Abruptly, Lucius walked across the foyer and towards the entrance of his ancestral home. Daphne wondered if he had refrained from using the floo network in order to avoid his destination being overheard.

"Goodbye." She attempted to smile, giving the handkerchief a feeble wave.

For a moment it seemed as though Lucius would speak, but instead he opened the door and departed, leaving nothing more than a cool breeze in his wake. Once more she closed her eyes. Lucius had completely contradicted her opinion of him by following her, choosing her over his pride, and yet his words had stung. And there had been truth as well as anger behind what she had said; despite how precious his rare displays of affection would make her feel, Lucius could also make her feel as though she was inferior to him less than a heartbeat later with a few ill-chosen words, and although he didn't lie to her, he certainly wasn't open about his life.

Every time Daphne thought she had come closer to solving the intricate puzzle that was Lucius Malfoy, the pieces would shift and she was left more confused than ever. That she had tried to earn his trust and distract him from the emptiness of his life by letting him share in every aspect of her own left Daphne feeling dismayed. She loved him, and it was painful to be made to feel that she didn't deserve the privilege of doing so.

**OoOoO**

Longing for her questions to be answered, Daphne had stayed up reading in Lucius' parlour. The books on Potions were fascinating, and she had copied several arcane recipes in order to query Temperance about them, yet they were not a distraction from Lucius' absence. When the clock had struck one, Daphne had accepted that he wouldn't return that night. It had been strange getting into the large canopy bed alone, yet the sheets had carried his scent and soon she had drifted off to a peaceful sleep. When Daphne had woken up, a selection of her clothing was folded on the dresser, as was always the case when she spent the night. It seemed as though the elves carried out their master's instructions like clockwork even in his absence.

She had attempted to spend the morning researching, but when Lucius hadn't returned by the time the elves served lunch, Daphne gave up waiting patiently. The thought of him with Narcissa was driving her to distraction, especially considering that he had been gone an entire night. Although both parties claimed that nothing of a romantic nature remained between them, Daphne had seen firsthand the closeness with which they operated, almost as though they were to halves rather than separate people. It was doubtful that Lucius would be willing to shed light on what had transpired between him and Narcissa, or even whether or not they had been alone with one another.

With thoughts of the two Malfoys turning over in her mind, Daphne had little chance of relaxing. She tried not to feel bitterness when she recalled Lucius' parting instruction to make herself comfortable, instead twisting his words into an invitation to set her mind at ease – an invitation to take a closer look at the Malfoy family home and see what could be learned. It wasn't as though it wouldn't be cathartic to actively search for information about Lucius; facts that she could understand for herself without him having manipulated them to suit his own interests. If she understood more about him, then it seemed to Daphne that she had a better chance of gaining his respect.

Her resolve galvanised by the thought, she descended the staircase and began to search for the basement. Years ago, the Ministry had raided the Manor and it was doubtful that Lucius would have risked the discovery or resultant confiscation of any of his belongings, dark or mundane, expensive or meagre. At the time, Draco had boasted of his father's successful concealment of many such belongings that could have been found only in the homes of the best of pureblood families. Daphne certainly hadn't imagined herself putting the information to use, and yet she did her best to recall what Draco had said as she looked for the correct corridor, the one that would take her into the depths of Malfoy Manor.

"Point me." It came as no real surprise when her wand simply twitched in her hand.

After considering her options, Daphne chose to go left; it was the only direction in which the floor was not carpeted. The air became noticeably cooler, which suggested that she was underground.

"Lumos." Slowly, Daphne progressed through the corridor. It was dusty and entirely without ornament, contrasting with the rest of the household which was not only pristine but luxurious.

On her way, Daphne passed several locked and warded doors, none of which she was willing to bypass; there was a risk that Lucius would find out, and Daphne was only willing to take that chance if she could get deeper into the house as such an investigation would be less than welcome in his eyes.

Much to Daphne's disappointment, she soon reached a stairwell that brought her back up a flight and above ground level. At the top, there was a door. No light came from underneath it, which was confusing because by Daphne's estimation she ought to be on the first floor.

Curiosity got the better of her and Daphne began to cast a series of spells designed to override the wards in place. If she was completely successful, Lucius would never know she had done so provided that she recast them afterwards. Trespassing was positively benign in comparison to the rest of the dark magic that the Carrows had taught her, none of which Daphne had ever used again. However, it was clear that Lucius resorted to arcane magic. She tried not to think about her 'lessons', or how Lucius must have learned such magic, as she worked so as to avoid distraction.

Deeply conscious of the time it had taken her to take down the wards and nervous of being caught, Daphne was relieved when the latch clicked open. During the series of spells she had cast, the tip of her wand had dimmed until it had ceased to cast a gentle glow over the surrounding area. As a result, the room was pitch black.

The hair on the back of Daphne's neck prickled as she stepped over the threshold. It occurred to her that she had entered another wing of the manor; a wing which had presumably been sealed off, as the air was cold to the point of feeling damp against her skin.

Hesitantly, Daphne waved her wand and looked around. It illuminated no treasures, yet the antique dining table and matching chairs were surely priceless. They hadn't been covered in sheets, which was strange – almost as though the Malfoys and their servants had left the room as quickly as possible end never returned to it. As she approached, Daphne saw that the wood was covered in a thick layer of dust, which sat like a ghostly tablecloth. The room was unremarkable, save for a short flight of stairs leading down into the corner of the room opposite to that by which she had entered. There, in the corner of the dining room, was the cellar she had been anticipating. Daphne set her wand down on the dining table so that its light would reach as much of the room as possible.

Putting aside her trepidation, Daphne crossed the room. She wished that Astoria was beside her, clutching her hand like she had done during childhood. Her little sister's unshakable and illogical faith had made Daphne feel as though she could do anything, like she was invincible. But Astoria was not with her, and Daphne could not shake her unease. She couldn't imagine what could have driven the Malfoys, with their spectacular degree of pride, to run from a part of their own home.

She was wondering how best to remove the iron bars blocking the door when a voice, taut with suppressed rage, reached her ears. Daphne struggled not to scream.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think that you are doing?" Lucius stood in the doorway, pale with fury. His eyes were as turbulent as storm clouds, the only outward suggestion of the true depth of his anger.

"N-nothing. I mean, I was just having a look around. I didn't think that you'd mind." The lie fell pathetically flat. Still he refused to speak, and so Daphne stammered on anxiously. "How w-was your night out?"

"I knew the instant the wards had been breached. I could scarcely believe that you, with all of your pretty words about trust and truth, would go behind my back, and yet here you are. Have you managed to work out where it is that you're standing?" His words cut through the air like a knife; a dangerous, low whisper.

Suddenly, Daphne realised that she was afraid. She was scared of Lucius. As he advanced, she wanted to run from him; there was nothing of the man who would awkwardly profess to feel affection for her.

"The dining room?" She flinched as a humourless laugh escaped him.

"It was, once. However rooms are not sealed off without good cause. Things more terrible and incredible than you could have imagined took place here." Before she could evade him, Lucius reached out and grabbed her arm, a strange light in his eyes. Madness. His fingers were biting into her skin, but Daphne didn't comment for fear of provoking him.

"How about we go back upstairs and you can tell me why it was closed off? Was it because of damp?" Daphne realised she was rambling. Her voice sounded shrill and desperate even to her own ears. "I'd imagine that you could fix it up, if you wanted to."

"I have a better idea, Daphne; how about you tell me exactly what it is that you hoped to gain by trying – and failing, I might add – to make your way past my wards?" He mimicked her cruelly, and when Daphne tried to look away he used the tip of his cane to force her to look at him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm by it. I wanted to understand you better, and I thought that... I don't know."

"You wanted to understand me?" Lucius appeared to consider this, and for a moment Daphne hoped that he would be forgiving. This hope was short lived when she caught sight of the look in his eyes. It was the same coldness that she could imagine emanating from behind a mask, obscured by a hooded cloak. It was then that she realised what he had meant; the dining room had been used by Death Eaters.

"Let go of me." Daphne struggled against him, but her strength was no match for that of Lucius. "Please."

"No. I'm going to grant your wish." He pulled at her in a way that nearly wrenched Daphne's arm from the socket, leading her around the dining table. "Here sat Pius Thicknesse, the previous Minister for Magic. There was Yaxley, who was responsible for many of the laws persecuting those of muggle birth, and both of the Carrows – do you remember them?"

"I don't want to hear any more." Daphne's words fell on deaf ears. "Stop this."

"Severus Snape sat over there. Your Potions Master. Did you know that it was I who guided him towards the side of the Dark Lord? Towards his eventual, painful death? And that his gradual murder was perhaps the kindest I ever committed in the Dark Lord's name."

"Lucius -" Daphne felt herself begin to cry as she realised who must have sat at the top of the table, in the grandest seat of them all. She screamed when he pushed her so that she almost fell into the seat.

"The Dark Lord himself sat here many times, over the years. I can see that now you are beginning to grasp at what I'm telling you." He smiled cruelly. "Does it frighten you, Daphne? Do you think that I'm a monster?"

"No... Yes – I mean, no." Daphne hiccoughed, clinging to his robes to prevent herself from coming into contact with Voldemort's chair. "I love you, and if you calm down and explain this to me then -"

"Then what? You'll go on adoring me, wishing that I'd let you into my life?" He sneered at her. "I sat over there along with my wife and my son. You've wondered why Draco never talks to his father, haven't you? Maybe you felt sorry for me. Well I introduced my sixteen year old son to all of the death and carnage that you stir potions in order to forget." Lucius shook her and watched dispassionately as Daphne began to sob. "Did you take Muggle Studies? Well?"

"N-no..."

"No, you didn't. I'd imagine that you and your dear friends sat and mocked the ridiculous subject, and made fun of the witch who taught it." Stunned at the change in subject, Daphne could only nod. She had often wondered why a witch with Professor Burbage's skill wasted her time on such a subject. She had written coherent essays as well, until she had gone missing...

Daphne's eyes widened in terror, and Lucius nodded slowly in response.

"Did you kill her?" As soon as she had asked, Daphne wondered why she had done so. No longer did she harbour any desire to know what had become of Charity Burbage.

"Certainly not! I would never have hurt anyone because of the beliefs they held." Sarcasm dripped from every word. He pulled her away from the Dark Lord's chair, and in her gratitude Daphne followed meekly. With near tenderness, Lucius lifted her onto the tabletop beside his own seat. "But I watched as it happened. The Dark Lord himself cast the curse, and she fell like so."

In her shock, Daphne didn't resist as he pushed her backwards. Sickened by the thought, she scratched frantically at the hand on her throat and attempted to roll from the table.

"Let me go... LET ME GO! LET ME G-" Daphne realised that she could no longer scream because one strong hand was wrapped around her throat, choking her into silence. Unable to look at him, Daphne turned to the side. Her wand was still lying on the table.

"You will hear this. Once she was dead, the Dark Lord instructed his snake to eat her. It was gruesome. I felt her blood on my face. Draco was sick afterwards." Lucius didn't seem to notice as she stopped scratching him, or that her fingers were inching towards her wand. "He had seen a woman killed and eaten alive."

His words were becoming faint. Black spots swam before Daphne's eyes, and she wondered if she too would die by his hand. Lucius could simply hide her body in his cellar and nobody would know.

"Draco was distraught... It was all too much for him, and I was to blame. I should have protected him, died so that he didn't have to suffer, and I didn't." At last, emotion could be heard in Lucius' voice. He looked down at her, horrified, as though seeing Daphne for the first time.

His grip slackened, and he backed away from her.

Gasping horribly as she tried to regain her death, Daphne struggled to move herself from such a macabre place. Weak, she fell to the floor and knocked over two chairs. Thankfully, Lucius seemed oblivious to the noise. Fuelled by sheer force of will alone, Daphne managed to collect her wand and stagger backwards towards the door, her wand raised. She paused, overcome by a hacking cough, when Lucius finally noticed her again.

"Daphne, I'm -" He looked bewildered, terrified by his own actions. When Daphne aimed her wand at him, Lucius dropped his own and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"You're _what_?" She half-sobbed a parody of his earlier treatment of her. "You're a sad, sick, twisted old man. The war crushed you, all of the good and all of the bad – everything there was to you, and that's sad. I get that, okay? It's tragic. I honestly felt such compassion for you, but not once did I pity you. Only, now I do because you let it warp everything about you. No wonder Narcissa and Draco left you. I would have stayed, if you'd let me, but you've hurt me too."

"No-"

"Yes. Because it was always me who was better than you, and now I do understand that." Turning, Daphne ran from the room.

Even after her muscles began to protest and she ran out of breath, Daphne continued out of the Manor and through the gates and disapparated. She stumbled into her flat, not bothering to close the door behind her, and blocked off the floo connection to Malfoy Manor.

Crouched on the hearth, Daphne fell over sideways and allowed her cheek to rest against the sooty tiles as she cried. She didn't know what to feel, stunned by what had transpired.

And that was where Astoria found her hours later.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm getting better at updating, no?**

**OoOoO**

Sitting up in her bed, Daphne waited as her younger sister rearranged her pillows. Astoria then made a show of smoothing out her blankets, and it became clear that she was biding her time before speaking. This was a trait she had learned from their mother. When she had arrived at the flat, its door wide open, Astoria's first thought had been burglary. She had darted between questioning and sympathetic silences, and even when she hadn't spoken it was clear to Daphne that her younger sister was trying to piece together the situation.

With surprising calm, Astoria had searched the flat for signs of an intruder as soon as she had ascertained that Daphne was in no immediate danger. It quickly became clear that nothing was missing, as her gift remained on the table and all of Daphne's jewellery was in place. Daphne had convinced her not to summon their parents and, by way of compromise, allowed Astoria to treat her like an invalid ever since. A part of her even enjoyed her sister's fussing as it almost blocked out the thoughts of blood, murder and hurt that threatened to overwhelm her.

Daphne hadn't imagined that Lucius could still be capable of such cruelty, yet her neck ached from where he had gripped it. However, it seemed irrelevant when compared to the feelings of loss and betrayal that surfaced whenever she thought of the Malfoy patriarch.

"It wasn't a robbery, was it?" Astoria's voice was level. Despite her choice of words, there was no question. She sat on the edge of the bed and took Daphne's hand. "Were you attacked?"

Daphne looked away from her sister's earnest blue eyes and rested her head on the pillow. She didn't know if there was a word for what had transpired between her and Lucius. He had taken all of his suffering and used it against her as a weapon. Until she had heard him rave about the darkness of his past, Daphne hadn't come close to imagining the extent to which he had been damaged by it. She had seen the fragments of a broken man set out plainly before her; the desperation, the remorse, the longing for a glory that was long since gone, and the self-hatred. He had, quite literally, strangled her with the brutality of his life as a Death Eater.

In response to her sister's question, Daphne could only shake her head, mute. Even if Lucius Malfoy had not attempted to crush her windpipe, there was no way for her to explain what she herself didn't understand.

"It looks much worse in the daylight, you know." With cool efficiency, Astoria summoned the little mirror from the dresser and caused it to levitate in front of Daphne.

Confused, she examined her reflection more closely. Her face was pale and blotchy from crying, eyes red. Her hair was tousled from sleep, a few rogue strands sticking to her cheek. Daphne made a half-hearted attempt to comb her hair with her fingers, mildly irritated by the superficial nature of Astoria's comment, and her hair shifted to reveal four marks where Lucius had gripped at her neck. Tilting her head upwards, Daphne saw where his thumb had been positioned, the location calculated in order to cut off her oxygen supply.

He had bruised her skin.

He could have killed her.

"It's nothing." Daphne pushed away her duvet and stood, feeling constricted by the four walls of the room. She turned from Astoria in order to conceal how unsettled she truly was. "Thanks for staying last night, but I have work to do..."

Daphne trailed off, leaving the insinuation that her sister ought to go hanging in the air between them.

Had Lucius been right; did she use her studies to block out unpleasant thoughts? Daphne wasn't certain. She had a passion for the art of potion brewing, and a genuine talent, but when volatile ingredients were being used, total concentration was necessary. Even the repetitive rhythms of chopping, stirring, dicing and grinding were consuming.

"You can barely speak!" Astoria hopped to her feet, indignant. Her point, Daphne conceded to herself, was a valid one – her voice had come out close to a croak. However, she couldn't afford to stop and think.

"I'm going to work, not to have a chat." Daphne shrugged her shoulders, collecting the makings of an outfit from various drawers. "It makes no difference."

"But Professor Marchmain will see those awful marks! Why not come back home with me, at least for a few days, Daphne – until they fade away? You're the sensible one, after all." A pleading note had entered Astoria's voice. That she was willing to overcome sibling rivalry and appeal to her sister's ego showed how much she cared – Daphne was touched, yet unwilling to accept this offer, however tempting.

She couldn't let Lucius unbalance her life as well as her heart.

"They're of no relevance to reducing Dragons' Blood, so it won't bother her."

With that, Daphne took her pile of clothes into the bathroom and locked the door behind herself. When she heard Astoria disapparate, she rested her head against the door and tried to convince herself that she didn't want to go home – to put up with her mother's 'little suggestions' and her father's cool evaluations of her career choice in order to pretend that her life had regained the simplicity of childhood.

Only, childhood had never been simple. Not for her, and not for any other Slytherin of good standing. In a perverse way, she and Lucius were both proof of this theory.

After a quick shower, Daphne dressed and took the Floo network to Temperance's house, quickly descending the staircase that led to her lab. She was surprised by how much she was looking forward to having company, and the Potions Mistress proved to be the best kind – although her eyebrows rose slightly when she caught sight of Daphne's bruises, she didn't make a fuss or even pass comment. In fact, what she said was completely unexpected.

"I received an order from Slug and Jigger's this morning, or rather _you _did." Temperance summoned a paper bag baring the apothecary's crest and handed it over. Sure enough, it was addressed to 'Apprentice D. Greengrass'. "I didn't order anything, and you haven't recorded any orders in the log book."

"That's because I didn't order anything." Intrigued, Daphne took the bag from Temperance and checked it for dark magic. Finding nothing, she reached in and was surprised to feel a string of cool, slick stones. It was no ingredient that she recognised by touch. Curiosity piqued, Daphne withdrew the contents of the bag.

It was a dazzling necklace of rubies, each the size of a robin's egg.

For a moment she was puzzled – why on earth would there be expensive jewellery in a bag from the apothecary? Then it occurred to her exactly who would try and solve things with precious, cold stones and who would have the money to bribe the apothecary a hundred times over: Lucius. It was exactly the kind of grand yet underhanded gesture that he would make, fully characteristic of his behaviour.

To her horror, Daphne felt her eyes fill with tears. She hated that he thought he could buy her back – that things between them were that simple. Maybe it was how his marriage to Narcissa had survived so long, because his wife was never seen in public or in private without accessories befitting to her station in life, but Daphne most certainly wasn't flattered.

"Dice the murtlap tentacles, Daphne." Returning to the Draught of Living Death that she was experimenting on, Temperance left her apprentice to her own thoughts.

The instructions she had received were mildly confusing – Daphne had expected to continue working on her own research on the properties of Dragons' Blood, not perform the most basic of tasks – however she was familiar enough with Temperance's methods not to question them. She did as she was told, trying not to think of the offending package that she had left on the countertop as she worked. The only thing to be done would be to go to Gringott's and ask a goblin to take it to one of the Malfoy vaults – this was easier said than done. Her pride wouldn't allow it to remain in her possession for any longer than was practical.

Belatedly, Daphne realised that she was providing the ingredients for the Essence of Murtlap, which Temperance was brewing alongside her own current project. It was confusing, as they had completed the order made my St. Mungo's only last week. Also, her workload was always so demanding that Daphne barely had time to think, never mind wish she had more on her plate. However simple the task – almost insultingly so – she was aware that the familiarity of the routine was relaxing.

When the potion was complete, Daphne watched as Temperance ladled it into little tubs. The Potions Mistress slid one across the surface of the counter. Daphne traced the crest absently, waiting for further instruction.

"Is there anything I ought to do?"

"Yes. Put some of that on your neck while it's still fresh and then go and do whatever it is that you're thinking about." With that, Temperance turned and continued her research. "Oh and I want those obscene rocks out of this lab – that's non-negotiable."

"Thank you." For some reason, Daphne couldn't bring herself to touch the bruises on her skin even if it would heal them. She put the tub into her handbag and decided to follow Temperance's instructions in a roundabout way.

With a renewed sense of determination, she climbed the stairs and made her way out of the corridor and onto the cobbled street. Daphne walked all the way to the bank as quickly as she could, all but pushing people out of her way in her hurry. Slightly out of breath, she came to stop before the first free goblin she could see. The little creature eyed her contemptuously, its beady eyes taking in her flustered appearance.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass and I'm here to make a deposit." She placed the now crumpled paper bag on the goblin's desk.

"Into which of your family's vaults do you wish to enter, miss?" He stretched out a hand, expecting her to show him the key to her own vault.

"None, actually." She blew her fringe from her face and continued. "I believe that the contents of this package were taken from a vault this morning – most likely that of Lucius Malfoy – and sent to me quite mistakenly, and so I wish to return it. Could you check your records to see where it came from, please?"

"I could, but I will not. You have no business in any other vault save for your own." With that, the odious little teller returned his attention to his paperwork.

"It's not as though I have any intention of removing anything from another person's vault, so I really don't see what the problem is." The situation was incredibly frustrating. Lucius may have lost a lot of credibility in the wizarding world, but to the goblins, there was no currency other than gold, which he had more of than almost anyone else in Britain.

"Regardless of whether or not you are capable of understanding it, this is our policy. There have been many cases of cursed goods being transferred in the past, the consequences quite disastrous, and so you may not take anything to the Malfoy vault." As though to emphasise his point, he stamped the bank's seal onto a document with more force than necessary.

"Then can't you have the curse breakers check it? I don't even have to go down there – surely you could take it -"

"No. Good day, Miss Greengrass." The goblin hopped from his stool, document in hand, leaving Daphne alone with the necklace. Money talked, and bribery was still possible. She wondered what Lucius had offered to bend the iron scruples of the bankers...

For a moment Daphne entertained the thought of simply leaving it on the desk and walking away, however she knew that she couldn't rest easily until it was back in the possession of its true owner. She couldn't let him think that she had accepted it, although doubtlessly he would be notified that she had tried to deposit goods into his vault. The idea of him knowing her whereabouts was not one that sat comfortably with her, and so Daphne lifted the bag down from the desk and walked briskly from Gringott's.

Defeated, she apparated to her block of flats and dropped the necklace into a drawer – she had no wish to see it, even wrapped as it was in a paper bag. Sifting through her post and owl orders, Daphne was pleased to see that her application to speak at an upcoming Potions conference had been accepted. Astoria had also written to ask her to come home again, causing her to shake her head slightly, and there was a box of tentacula leaves that she had ordered. What confused her was the other package, wrapped in white tissue paper.

Carefully, she unwrapped it and could have screamed in frustration when she saw that it was a little jewellery box. Daphne didn't even bother opening it – she dropped it into the drawer with its companion with a hint of aggression.

This couldn't continue.

It was as though he would continue until she named her price.

Well, she never would. Daphne rewrapped each 'gift' with care, trying not to imagine Lucius receiving them alone in his mausoleum of a house. It was as though different people inhabited his body, and the thought of the man who, in certain moments, she could have sworn loved her being in there with the rest of them was maddening. Lifting a quill and some parchment, Daphne began to write.

'_Lucius,_

_I would appreciate it if you would refrain from insulting me by sending me jewellery, or any other favour you may wish to bestow upon me, as I have no interest in receiving any manner of attention from you. There is nothing left to be said or done between us, and the greatest kindness you can do me is to leave me be._

_Sincerely,_

_D. G.'_

With mixed emotions, Daphne fixed the parchment to the parcel she had wrapped and walked up the remaining stairs to the small owlery on the top floor of the building. Thankfully, her own owl – a barn owl named Maud –was present, and hopped over obediently. Daphne attached the parcel to her owl's leg with string and watched as Maud flew down the street, wishing that she could decide what it was that she felt, or even that she truly could wish away all of the happy hours she had spent with Lucius before he had turned on her.

Not wishing to sit around and dwell on her losses, Daphne returned to the dungeon beneath Temperance's house and continued her research. The conference had given her something new, something positive, to think about, and she wasn't going to let herself down.

**OoOoO**

'_...the greatest kindness you can do me is to leave me be.'_

Lucius had known it to be true from the beginning, yet a combination of his selfishness and her charm had prevented him from being capable of severing ties with Daphne, or even refraining developing them in the first place.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt that her reaction would have been any different if you had sent her diamonds – which you probably should have done, if you wanted her to come back to you -" Narcissa examined the rejected rubies with a cool, appraising eye. She owned so many precious stones that she was all but an expert on their value and quality.

"She wouldn't have wanted anything quite so ostentatious." There was no fight in his voice, a distinct absence of the reaction Narcissa had wished to provoke. Lucius continued speaking quietly, more to himself than her. "Daphne suits red, I think."

His wife sighed – too quietly for him to comment on yet loud enough to have annoyed him, had Lucius been in the spirit to continue their never-ending argument. As it was, he had no interest in doing so. It seemed like such a hollow thing to get by on, especially now that he was acutely aware of what it was that Daphne had given him, and its absence.

"Will you send her anything more?" Feigning disinterest, Narcissa adjusted the sleeves of her robes.

Lucius didn't answer. He had spent the night pacing in his study and drinking firewhisky, and as a result he was feeling rough around the edges. Unfortunately, the drink had failed to blot out any of yesterday's events. Sleep was the obvious course of action, but he couldn't face a night in his bed, the bed Daphne had been so uncertain of her place in. He hunched forward, massaging his forehead as though to prompt productive thoughts.

"I don't – at this stage, it is impossible to say." He felt himself growing impatient with the discussion.

"And do you imagine that the situation is going to change if you do nothing?" Condescension dripped from every syllable. Narcissa turned to look at him slowly, expression unreadable. He imagined that – had she been sitting in his wife's place – Daphne would not be trying to advise him, but console him. Perhaps she would have tried to tease him a little, or divert him with her foolish chatter. Then again, if Daphne had been with him, Lucius would not be facing his current dilemma. "Lucius? Merlin's _blood_, there's nothing about her to make her absence as lamentable as you're making out."

"Don't." His voice was devoid of emotion, and it became clear that there would be no rise from him. "How is Draco this morning?"

"He misses you." The admission seemed to pain Narcissa, however he suspected that she had lied in order to offer some kind of false comfort. "Not that he'd say anything, but I can tell."

"You're his mother." Lucius felt a surge of affection towards his wife and offered Narcissa a thin smile, which she returned. Their bond was a strange one, and yet it worked well enough.

"Yes, and I'm your wife." She stood, lifting her wand from the table in a rather elegant motion. "You'd better have shaved by the time I return."

He didn't understand her comment, nor was he going to pretend that he did. Lucius remained silent, listening to the roar of the fire as Narcissa stepped into the flames.

The stillness of the house would drive him mad, he felt. It hadn't bothered him until he had noticed that Daphne always seemed to be moving; walking, breathing, laughing, talking, or even fidgeting.

The truth that Lucius hadn't been prepared to admit was simple: even if the impossible came true and she returned to him, he didn't know if it would be worth the accusation in Daphne's eyes.

Before, she had looked on him with curiosity, interest and even tenderness. All of those things would, in all likelihood, have been replaced by resentment, perhaps even fear. He had hurt her, added too many wrongs to a world her youthful perspective tried to see as right. It hadn't felt good, but it had made him feel as though he had control of something.

Ignoring Narcissa's advice, Lucius summoned the decanter and filled his empty glass.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review the previous chapter – it was wonderfully kind of you.**

**OoOoO**

As soon as she had sent her owl to return the jewellery, Daphne had experienced a horrible sense of finality. Lucius had made her feel something more profound than she had imagined possible, and now that she had severed ties with him, it was as though all of the depth he had added to her life had vanished, leaving her with a dull reality. Their conversations, even their arguments, had been stimulating, and Lucius had the power to make everything seem much more significant than it had previously. More than that, he had given Daphne a sense that there was a place for her in the new world they had found themselves in, which was strange considering his uncanny ability to make her feel off balance. Then again, not everything about their relationship had made sense; least of all the way Lucius had gone from accepting her love, maybe even loving her in return, to wanting to hurt her. He had succeeded, too; Daphne had worked until the point of exhaustion.

Another Pepper-Up potion would have made her sick, and her mind was too sleep-deprived to function even if her body had been convinced to keep on going. She had been forced to admit defeat and leave the potions lab. As Temperance had pointed out rather impatiently, she was one yawn away from causing an accident.

Daphne fought the temptation to simply apparate to her block of flats, instead attempting to prolong her distraction by walking home. Thankfully, the streets were quiet due to the lateness of the hour and so she didn't have to fight her way through throngs of pedestrians. She was scarcely paying attention to her surroundings, and so she barely noticed as someone fell into step behind her, not even taking in the all too familiar tap of the cane against the cobblestones. It was only when a hand grasped her elbow that Daphne realised anything was amiss.

Shocked out of her sleepy stupor, she turned to face her companion, who had pushed aside her hair and was staring at her neck with unbridled horror. Upon recognising Lucius, Daphne wrenched her arm from his grasp and drew her wand, taking a slow step backwards.

"Daphne, wait. I implore you, stay there." Lucius made to step towards her before he thought better of it. "Please."

"Don't come any closer to me!" Daphne didn't know how she was going to convince him to leave her alone, or even what her next move would be. Her wand hand was trembling dangerously.

"I won't without your express permission – you have my word." His grey eyes were once more inscrutable, however she detected none of the madness which had clouded his gaze the last time she and Lucius had met and so the edge was taken from her initial panic.

Taking stock of the situation, Daphne noted that the street was deserted save for them. She didn't allow the worry caused by this realisation to show. Instead she continued watching Lucius, waiting to see what it was that he planned to do. Ordinarily fastidious with his appearance, it looked as though Lucius had slept in the shirt and trousers that he was wearing, and he hadn't bothered to don even a plain travelling cloak. The moon's pale light showed that had also forgone grooming, his hair not brushed and his jaw unshaven.

"Why were you following me? I told you to leave me alone – I don't want anything to do with you anymore." She hated how plaintive her voice sounded as it sliced through the silence of the night.

Lucius was watching her closely. He barely flinched at the harshness of her words.

"Forgive me – I had to see you again. Your anger is understandable -" Lucius spoke quietly and emphatically, his voice taking on a serious edge.

"I'm not yours to see." Tired and confused, Daphne shook her head. She was at a loss. "If you cared that much, and if I was all that important to you, then you would never have... You couldn't have..."

"I'm sorry, Daphne." His face wore a pained expression, and for a fleeting moment she was tempted to lower her wand. However, Daphne did no such thing. She couldn't afford to have her resolve waver. "Please believe me when I say that you're the last person I wanted to hurt -"

"But you did hurt me, and I'm going home. I can't see you any more, okay? And don't send me any more jewellery." Certain that he wasn't going to attack her – the suspicion seemed ludicrous in light of his apology, which had shaken her to the core – Daphne turned and walked away, her posture radiating tension. Lucius made no attempt to follow her.

As soon as Daphne had rounded the corner of her street, she disapparated, too tired to walk any farther. She went straight into her bedroom and changed into her pyjamas, trying desperately not to think about Lucius, never mind wish that the past forty-eight hours had never taken place and that she could simply fall asleep, tucked against his side. She walked into the bathroom, the tiled floor cold beneath her bare feet, and washed off her makeup. The bruises ringing her neck looked all the more severe against her pale skin.

She couldn't think about how long he had waited for her, or whether or not his apology had been genuine; it was all too difficult for her to process. Her life had never been simple since Lucius had become a part of it.

With sudden determination, she summoned the tub of cream that Temperance had given her earlier. Daphne unscrewed the lid and scooped up the balm, massaging it into her skin. It was only when her neck had been covered in the paste that Daphne rinsed her hands clean, enjoying the feel of the water running against her skin. Hot, fat tears were rolling down her cheeks. She stood there until the paste had dried before finally falling into bed, alone and exhausted.

**OoOoO**

After a good night of sleep, Daphne had managed to put the encounter out of her thoughts, for the most part. She began her preparation for the upcoming conference and was working on the introduction for her speech when a knock sounded on the door. Apprentices training in the art of Potions were uncommon, and it was rarer still for a training Potions Mistress of Master to be granted a slot to speak at any high profile event – impressing those attending the conference was, therefore, of the utmost importance. So absorbed in her task was Daphne that she didn't notice the knocking until it grew more insistent.

With a sigh of frustration, she laid down her quill and got up to answer the door. Before she had made it, Astoria burst into the room, her delicate features a perfect mask of worry.

"Merlin's beard, Daphne! It's a good thing that you're here – I was considering going to fetch an auror or two." In her typically dramatic fashion, Astoria engulfed her older sister in an uncomfortably tight hug. "Oh, and thank goodness you got rid of those bruises; they were totally bizarre to look at."

"Yes, because my appearance is my most pressing concern at a time like this..." Daphne rolled her eyes, uncertain if her sister had picked up on the sarcasm laced through her words.

"So are you going to tell me what happened?" Astoria took Daphne's seat and casually flicked through the notes she had made for her speech. It was as though she was trying to downplay the seriousness of what had happened which, in her own way, was rather sweet.

"I've been invited to speak at the Potions conference in Oxford next month." Daphne hoped that the news was important enough to distract Astoria from the true meaning of her question. She felt a little guilty for doing so, but she wasn't prepared to disclose anything of what had taken place between her and Lucius – good or bad – until she truly understood it herself.

"Really? Wow, you might make it into the Daily Prophet." Astoria grinned. Carelessly, she dropped Daphne's notes onto the table – her interest in them had well and truly waned. "What are you going to wear for it? I mean, there might be photographers. I mean, even if it's just one of those stuffy old Potions journals your picture goes in, you still want to look your best, right?"

Dropping onto her sofa, Daphne closed her eyes and silently counted to ten. There were times when she wondered how she and her sister could be blood relations.

"To be honest, I don't think that my outfit matters a great deal. It's my lecture that I have to focus on, otherwise I'll become a laughingstock." Ignoring the scandalised look Astoria was sending her, Daphne sorted her notes into chronological order and set them back down onto the coffee table.

"Come with me to Madam Malkin's today – have you told mum and dad yet?" Astoria waited for a response and Daphne shook her head. "Good. That way I can use the extra money they gave me on your robes – it'll be like a gift from them, and they'll have no idea that you accepted any of their money."

"Astoria, I can't!" Scandalised, Daphne could only stare at her little sister. Due to her sunny disposition, it was often easy to forget why she had been sorted into Slytherin house.

"Why not? I'm serious, Daphne; you can't just sit around in your pyjamas like some sort of victim, and all you ever seem to do is work. I was talking to Tracey yesterday and she said that the last time you two went out for a drink was over two weeks ago. I'm glad that you don't ever see she-who-must-not-be-named, but I don't want you to stop seeing your friends!" Astoria folded her arms. In that moment, she was the spitting image of their mother, however Daphne was clever enough to know that such a comparison would do her no favours. "Go and get dressed, we're leaving in half an hour."

Knowing that it was pointless to argue, Daphne traipsed into her bedroom and tried not to notice the similarities between her sister's visit and all of the times her mother had forced her to spend hot, itchy afternoons in robe fitting after robe fitting. She did as she was told, donning a casual green sundress and some coral lipstick, the latter of which had been chosen to keep the peace, before leaving her bedroom.

Astoria was shamelessly rifling through her post when Daphne emerged – she didn't even cease her search when her older sister gave a pointed cough, hand outstretched.

"Do I pass inspection?" Daphne tried and failed to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.

"Barely. Don't you own any shoes that aren't flat?" Astoria continued to stare at the letter on the top of the small pile.

"I own five pairs of heels, which you know because they've been Christmas and birthday gifts from you for the past couple of years." She had hoped to make her younger sister laugh, or even have Astoria poke out her tongue as she had often done as a child, however no such reaction was forthcoming.

"Why has Narcissa Malfoy written to you?" Curious, she turned to face Daphne. "Her owl brought this whilst you were getting changed."

"What?" Daphne barely managed to keep the panic from her voice.

"Narcissa Malfoy – that's her handwriting. She's invited you out to that little cafe on to take afternoon tea. You know, she used to send me all of these snooty notes reminding me to do x, y and z every time I was going to be seen in public with her precious son. As if any of it helped, in the end..."

As Astoria reminisced, Daphne managed to think of a plausible cover story.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's one of mother's schemes to turn me into a proper lady." Shrugging, Daphne pulled her letters from Astoria's unresisting hands and dropped them onto the arm of the sofa. "Shall we go, then?"

"Okay." Accepting Daphne's explanation, she followed her sister from the flat.

They walked through the streets of London together, making light conversation as they went. Daphne looked through the crowds every so often, slightly worried that Lucius would attempt to follow her once more. It was an irrational fear, because the last thing he would want was for anyone connected to his son to learn of his affair with her, and yet still Daphne found herself searching for him.

It was a relief to her when they made it to the finally reached the shop and were out of the public view.

Upon spotting Astoria, who, if the size of the older witch's smile was anything to go by, was quite possibly one of her best customers, Madam Malkin approached the Greengrass sisters immediately. She fussed over Astoria, leaving Daphne to browse the racks of material in peace.

"What are you looking for today, Miss Greengrass – anything in particular, or are you looking for something that catches your eye?" The proprietor knew that it was best to attempt to engage Astoria in conversation, as scarcely a week passed when the younger Greengrass didn't come to her to make some sort of impulsive purchase.

"Actually, Daphne needs a new set of robes today, because she's going to speak at a conference next month." A note of pride entered Astoria's voice, which caused her older sister to smile as she picked through the fabric samples.

"Is that so? Well, you'll want to dress to impress, in that case." Madam Malkin bustled over to a rack of various professional prints, and Daphne was just about to point out a pinstripe she found particularly appealing when Astoria spoke.

"Don't you think that Daphne would look better in something a bit more colourful, Madam Malkin? Everyone's going to be wearing black and grey, after all." Astoria looked as innocent as ever, smiling beatifically when the seamstress nodded her assent.

"Hmm, perhaps you're right. What do you think, poppet?" She looked at Daphne expectantly, but Astoria beat her older sister to the punch once more.

"She looks beautiful in red, don't you think?"

"Yes, that would suit your sister's colouring." Madam Malkin discarded the plain fabrics and raised her wand, summoning a variety of red samples for her customers to examine.

"This one?" Astoria pointed to a silk that would look gaudy under the circumstances.

"No, I'd much rather wear something plainer." Daphne's protests fell on deaf ears as the other two witches held materials beside her in order to judge whether or not they were suitable. At last, four were picked out and Daphne was allowed to make a decision.

"I quite like this red corduroy." She ran a finger over the sample material. It was soft to touch, and the colour was warm and rich without being too bright for her to be professional looking in it. It was clear from her expression that Astoria thought little of her sister's choice, however the seamstress nodded thoughtfully.

"An excellent choice – now let's get you fitted up." Seemingly of their own accord, the inch tapes took Daphne's measurements. As the basics of the outfit came into being, the sisters chatted together. Madam Malkin jotted down a few notes on a bit of paper as she worked and, when she was finished planning the outfit, nodded. "If you come back tomorrow to check that it sits right, that should be all that's needed."

"Thank you very much." Daphne was thankful that Madam Malkin sensed her unwillingness to wait around until the robes had been created. It was only zealous shoppers such as Astoria who preferred to stay in the shop as the outfit was made from scratch.

"Goodbye!" With a jaunty wave, Astoria led the way from the shop. She frowned slightly. "You'd better go for tea and scones with Her Royal Majesty, I think."

Daphne couldn't help but groan. She had, much to her surprise, enjoyed her outing. Experiencing a sudden rush of affection for her sister, she wrapped both arms tightly around Astoria's bird-like shoulders.

"Thanks for today, Astoria."

"Don't mention it. You've been looking after me ever since I was born." With a teasing grin, Astoria took a step backwards. "It's about time that I tried to return the favour. And if _Narcissa_ gets on your nerves, be sure and tell her where to go. Ciao!"

Astoria blew her sister a farewell kiss and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Daphne to find her way to the cafe. She resented that Narcissa felt as though she had the right to simply summon her – it was exactly the kind of arrogance that could be seen in Lucius' words and actions – however, the fact that Narcissa had been willing to issue the invitation at all, especially in light of her split from Lucius, suggested that there was no frivolous wish to taunt behind her reasoning. There were times when Daphne was certain that the Malfoys shared an agenda, yet there had also been moments when she could have sworn that their aims led in totally opposite directions.

As soon as Daphne arrived at the tearoom, she was escorted up the stairs into the parlour that her mother had occasionally reserved for special days out. Narcissa's back was facing her, and although her facial expressions never gave much away, Daphne felt that she was at an immediate disadvantage. She remained silent, determined to force Lucius' wife to acknowledge her presence.

At last, Narcissa turned to greet her. Her eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly as she caught sight of Daphne's dress, which was plain in comparison to hers. Narcissa had not overdressed, yet her clothes exuded wealth and status.

"Miss Greengrass." She gestured for Daphne to round the table and sit.

"Mrs Malfoy." Daphne nodded to her, willing to put aside their battle of wills now that Narcissa had managed to put aside her own pride. "You wanted to see me, I think."

"Yes." It seemed that she was in no rush to explain herself. Narcissa produced her wand from the folds of her robes and pointed it at the silver teapot sitting between them. "I'll be mother, shall I?"

The slight inflection of irony in her voice did not go unmissed by Daphne.

"What I had with Lucius is over. There's no need for you to keep on like this because I'm not a threat anymore – at least, not to you." Grudgingly, she took her cup of tea before Narcissa could add milk or sugar.

For a split second, Narcissa faltered. She decided to give up on pretence as the conversation continued.

"You never were a threat to me." Narcissa's lip curled. Delicately, she added sugar to her own teacup before placing the spoon back on the saucer. "Certainly, you puzzled me – I was and am curious as to what it was about you that attracted my husband. Might I speak candidly?"

"You might, although you probably won't. Whatever it was I had, it wasn't enough. You're probably looking too hard." With relish, Daphne sliced a scone in half and buttered it generously. She doubted her companion would touch any of the food that had been left out for them, although it all looked delicious. Even Astoria had put aside the diets of her teenage years in order to taste them.

Ignoring Daphne's jibe, Narcissa considered her words. She frowned, an expression that immediately transported Daphne back to the Slytherin Common Room; Draco had worn an identical look whenever he was confused by an assignment.

"Most likely, yes. You're so young, and spirited; there's no reserve and, at points, if you'll forgive my saying so, you can even be uncouth – it isn't my intent to insult you, Miss Greengrass." Seeing that Daphne was on the brink of discarding her untouched tea and leaving, Narcissa hurried on. "You know my husband, and that he and I are of a similar disposition. Lucius is cunning, and he goes after what he wants, although he'll never take the route that's immediately obvious, a rule to which you are one of very few exceptions, and he's... Well, you know how he is."

"No, I don't. I thought I did – quite a lot of time, actually – but I never could pinpoint anything about him." Daphne looked down at the table, her reflection almost sharp on the surface. She missed the brief, unguarded look of surprise that passed across Narcissa's face. When she looked back up again, it had been artfully suppressed.

"There's nothing presumptuous about you. Maybe that's what he liked..." Narcissa took a sip from her teacup and, rather miraculously, her red lipstick didn't leave a mark against the porcelain. "Anyway, I had underestimated your hold on him. Lucius is... he's very fond of you."

Daphne stared.

"That's exactly how he chose to express it." She wondered if Lucius had confessed his 'affection' for her to his wife and asked her, in a roundabout way, whether she would be kind enough to impart some kind of message. Or maybe he had blackmailed Narcissa – she wouldn't put it past him.

"It's true. He adores you, and I think that you -"

"Mrs Malfoy, I made it quite clear that I wanted nothing to do with Lucius, and I think that it would be easier if, by extension, I included you." Daphne pushed her chair back, not caring that it scraped against the floor. She reached to lift her wand from the table when Narcissa's fingers closed around her wrist, her grip strong.

"Listen to me, Daphne. I'm going to be every bit as direct as you want me to be. Lucius told me a little of what it was that passed between you. He regrets it very much." Narcissa's eyes had taken on a fierce shine.

"He found me last night on my way home from work, and now this – will you both stop trying to contact me?" Daphne wriggled free, yet made no move to leave. She had no intention of doing so until she had extracted a promise from Narcissa.

"You saw him with your own two eyes. He's not – he misses you." Narcissa sighed heavily. "I know better than anyone what he's capable of. Not once did Lucius hurt me. Never. Nor did he... nor did he do any of the irrational things that you encouraged him to do. I can tell that you want him back, the best parts of him, and that you're frightened of the worst."

"You don't know -"

"_Yes,_ I do. We've been married since before you were born." The vehemence in Narcissa's voice caused Daphne to listen closely. "I have never seen him like this before because he's never cared for anyone so selflessly in his life – not even our son."

"What? It's good of you to say, but it's too late for this to do any good." Daphne gestured helplessly. She couldn't let herself believe a word of what Narcissa was saying, because if she did...

"Draco doesn't see him, not ever in public and especially not in private; did you know that? Hasn't done since the war ended. If they happen to meet, he'll try and leave. He blames Lucius for too much, and me for too little. Perhaps it's my fault – I couldn't stand it if my son hated me, and so I've never really spoken to him about what happened. The night before your... fight, Draco had agreed to meet with his father on the condition that I was present. It wasn't successful by anyone's standards, and Lucius was so very disappointed. He was hurt and he was angry and he was suffering because of all of his past mistakes. Go back to him, Daphne." Narcissa waved away the flow of interruptions that threatened to spill from Daphne's throat. "At least consider it."

"Why are you saying this?" Suspicious, she regarded Narcissa as one would look at a poisonous snake. Every word could be loaded with venom. "Why are you saying all of these things to me?"

"Because I don't believe that Lucius will try and talk to you again, no matter how much he may wish to do so, and it's entirely your choice what happens next." Narcissa spoke as though she was addressing a small child, her voice containing a strained sort of patience. "You'll think about it, yes?"

"I can't." Dazed by the way her opinion of Lucius was threatening to change again, reshaping the ground beneath her feet, Daphne backed away. "I can't. Goodbye, Mrs Malfoy."

Narcissa merely nodded in response, unsurprised by being met with such a reaction.

Fleeing from the cafe, Daphne walked all the way to Temperance's house. Knowing that Draco lived only a few house along the street didn't help her to gather her thoughts. She pictured Lucius standing on his son's doorstep, his demeanour all the more serious in order to hide his discomfort. Against her better judgement, she wished that she could have comforted him simply by sitting beside him, perhaps even telling him about her research. However, knowing more about the situation didn't cause her anger to abate, nor did it make her any less sad.

When Temperance saw that her neck was free of marks, she smiled but said nothing. They worked in silence, for which Daphne was grateful. She knew that the only thing to be done was to put all of herself into preparing for the conference and hope that once it had finished, her feelings would have settled.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry about the delay between updates. **

**OoOoO**

After a month of solid work and research, the date of the Potions conference had finally arrived. Short of giving up an even greater portion of each night's sleep, Daphne couldn't have done anything more to prepare herself for the lecture she was to deliver. Still, this knowledge had not made her complacent. Although most of the presentations before her own had been fascinating, Daphne had recited her speech under her breath throughout every one of them. It was likely that Temperance, who was seated beside her, could hear her apprentice quietly muttering away to herself, however she chose not to pass comment. In fact, throughout the first day of the convention, the only words Temperance spoke were brief critiques of her colleagues and their research. Her words were dispensed without a sugar coating, and her praise infrequent, so despite having received a degree of help from Temperance, Daphne was unsure whether she was more afraid of speaking before an audience or receiving a harsh review from the witch to whom she was apprenticed.

As was the way of things, Daphne's dread seemed to bring her own slot forward at an accelerated rate until, at last, her name was the next on the programme that was crumpled between her fingers. Even if her own slot was disastrous, Daphne was glad that it was going to take place on the second day of the conference because it meant that she could relax and enjoy the three remaining days of lectures; along with her colleagues, Daphne was being guided towards forefront of developmental brewing, and the thought excited her.

Nevertheless, she was almost sick with nerves as the talk scheduled before hers concluded. Potions Masters from across the globe swept from the lecture theatre left the room, discussing the pros and cons of the theory postulated by the austere looking Professor Bergesen, who taught their art at the Durmstrang Institute. Only Temperance lingered, her presence more comforting than any words. Wordlessly, she assisted Daphne in collecting her jars of ingredients and her cauldron from the antechamber behind the platform. Methodically, she laid them out and turned to Temperance for approval.

"You'll be fine – good, even. Perhaps in a few years you can take over from Bergesen, because if I can't sit through two hours of him talking, then I have no idea how his pupils pass their NEWTS, or whatever it is that they have out there." Temperance gave her a rare smile before descending the stairs, taking a seat in the front row. She paused, turning as she heard her shocked apprentice squeak a reply.

"What?" Daphne could barely process what was being suggested.

"You're right. A mind like yours is better suited to research than teaching, I think." Not acknowledging Daphne's shock, Temperance continued down the stairs. "You enjoy it too much to divide your attention."

Calmly, Temperance took her seat in the front row and began to leaf through her programme. Daphne was about to ask her if she was nervous about her own lecture, which was to close the conference, but she was distracted by the voices echoing through the adjacent corridor: people were moments away from returning. Doing her best to remain calm, Daphne checked once more that she had all of the necessary notes and ingredients. She tensed, hearing the doors swing open. Immediately the hall was filled with the buzz of academics, each and every one of them hungry for fresh information.

Slowly, Daphne turned and stepped up into the lectern. She set her notes out on the stand and ran her shaking fingers across the wood, allowing its smoothness to calm her. She watched as her audience sat and, gradually, settled into silence as they felt her gaze upon them.

Knowing that the time was ripe, Daphne took a deep breath and began to speak.

**OoOoO**

It wasn't what the life that she would have chosen for her elder daughter, yet as Mrs Greengrass watched Daphne begin to speak, she knew instinctively that her child had found her vocation. There was such passion in her voice as she spoke, bringing what could only be described as a dry idea to life, a love of the subject shining in her eyes.

Certainly, Daphne would never make the kind of marriage that her younger sister would, and for a time this had worried her mother. It wasn't as though her first-born was any less special than her second – quite the contrary, actually – but, as Mrs Greengrass was seeing for the first time, the best of her was invested in the brewing world rather than the social.

And that suited both mother and daughter perfectly.

**OoOoO**

What Astoria knew about potions could fit into the tiny vials that her sister was now wielding, yet she could tell that Daphne was good. So good that she couldn't help but forget about the attractive moustachioed wizard in the box opposite and pay attention to what her older sister was saying. Astoria had been making the most of having been seated in a box and was taking in the eye-candy displayed before her when she had noticed that every eye in the room was fixed on one thing and one thing only: her sister.

It was then that Astoria had tuned in, and once she began to pay attention and let the words wash over her, it was like a tap that couldn't be turned off; she did her best to consider the points her sister was making, however far over Astoria's head they may have been, and enjoyed being made to think.

Also, she experienced a rush of satisfaction as she watched her sister sweep across the stage towards her bubbling cauldron: in her warm red robes, Daphne looked fabulous.

**OoOoO**

Astoria wasn't the only person in the audience considering the colouring of Daphne's robes. Almost directly across from her, in a box that was obscured from the view of the scarlet-clad speaker, was Lucius Malfoy. He had purchased a ticket almost as soon as they had been released, paying a little extra to keep his name from the list of persons attending, and told himself that he probably wouldn't go – that there was no point, because he wouldn't understand what Daphne was talking about and she wouldn't want to see him. However, no amount of reasoning could overcome the temptation presented by that small, alluring thought of seeing Daphne again, of hearing her voice filled with feeling, even if none of it was directed towards him.

The reality of it hadn't disappointed him.

As always, Daphne was beautiful to him. All the more so because, as Lucius had known from the moment she had opened her mouth, she was in her element.

As for what she was saying, Lucius had been good at Potions – he had taken a NEWT in the subject, although that had been many years ago – and so he could appreciate the intricacy of what she suggested about Dragon's Blood when reduced; the cleverness of the idea, if not every little detail. She was exceptional, forging her own place in an academic world, and he became increasingly conscious of what it was that he had lost as she continued to speak with confidence and clarity, entirely unaware of him watching her.

Lucius had deliberately chosen a seat that would be obscured from her vision, but that didn't stop the irrational sliver of his brain from wondering whether she could sense him in the crowd, or if her reaction to his appearance would prove to be favourable, after all. And he despised himself for having such thoughts, almost as much as he despised himself for throwing her away.

The instant Daphne finished her lecture, Lucius stood and wrapped his cloak around himself and began to descend the stairway. He had planned on leaving as soon as she had shown the first signs that she was drawing towards a conclusion, by starting the Q&A session, but the rhythm of her speech had pushed all such practical thoughts from his mind. By the time he made it down the stairs, the hall was just beginning to empty – this suited his needs exactly, as the last thing Lucius wanted was for Daphne to notice.

He didn't want to taint what had clearly been a success.

Quickly, Lucius made his way towards the exit and was less than a stone's throw away from the double doors when Daphne appeared from the antechamber, deep in conversation with Temperance Marchmain and a wizard he recognised from the _Daily Prophet_. Lucius stopped, tightening his grip on his cane. Before he could consider disapparating, Daphne turned to face forwards, her face lit up with laughter that echoed against the walls, literally filling the room with her warmth – laughter that died as she caught sight of him and blinked as though questioning her own vision. She stopped walking and stared at him, surprise in her eyes.

Lucius experienced a burning curiosity about what it was that she was really feeling. He drunk in every detail of her, noticing for the first time that she was a little too thin and that underneath her eyes were shadows that spoke of all of the nights she had spent researching and working. The Potions Mistress, Temperance Marchmain, drew the wizard from Daphne's side towards a colleague she spotted, sending Lucius a piercing glance as she did so. The atrium filled with people, each and every one of whom was oblivious to the tension they were cutting through, and the moment passed. He lost sight of her as a young reporter knocked into him from behind, making a mad dash for the door. Lucius felt his lip curl in a sneer, the indignity of being pushed aside utterly eclipsed by the frustration of having lost sight of Daphne in the crowd, and was about to pursue the young man when a very, very familiar figure brushed past his side.

If she wanted him to go, then Daphne wouldn't have to ask twice. However, Lucius couldn't stop himself from following her into the antechamber from which she had emerged. When he made it into the little room, she was pouring the contents of her cauldron into various sizes of jars – the kind of drudge work he imagined the Potions convention's organisers would have employed assistants for.

She was bent over the table; a tendril of hair had escaped her up-do and was obscuring her face. Still, Lucius knew that she would be trying her best to focus on the task at hand; trying too hard, because she was trying to cover up the fact that she was scared and bewildered.

"Daphne..." He spoke softly, yet she jumped as he addressed her. It was sweet torture to be so close to her again.

**OoOoO**

She hadn't known what to think when she had first come across Lucius Malfoy in the atrium. Her thoughts had scattered like the audience, eager to disperse and discuss the theory she had presented to them. Perhaps it was because she was still flush with the success of her talk, because Daphne had felt strangely confident as she had walked into the antechamber. She hadn't issued Lucius with a direct invitation, but she had let him know where she was going. And he had followed.

He had done what his wife had sworn that he wouldn't and come back to her, trying again in spite of everything that had passed between them.

It was such a little thing when the severity of the manner of their parting was considered, and yet in terms of Lucius Malfoy, who had only ever known how to care for himself, it was quite a spectacular gesture. So much so that Daphne, feeling the weight of a month's delayed confusion and hurt crash down upon her head, felt as though she could be smothered by all of the thoughts and feelings that he caused her to experience.

Needing something to do with her hands, Daphne had started to store the Dragon's Blood when he had spoken her name, almost a caress. She was forced to think of him alone in that mausoleum of a manor house.

"My mother and my sister will be looking for me." She turned her back on him, carrying her belongings towards the sink. Daphne filled it with hot water, conscious of his eyes boring into her back.

"You spoke admirably."

"I don't know why you came here today." Daphne scrubbed furiously at the pestle, using a brush to remove the herbs that had stuck to it. The words came out more harshly than she had intended them too, and although she felt that he deserved the sting of them, Daphne had no interest in having the discussion turn into a full blown argument. "Sorry."

"No, you're not. And why should you be?" There was a hint of a smile in his voice – she knew that without having to turn around. "Tell me, do you recall what it was that we discussed at lunch? It was our first meal together, unless you count that wreck of an engagement party."

"I – it was Draco and Astoria." She bowed her head and allowed the brush she was using to sink to the bottom of the murky water, giving up on the pretence of cleaning. Lucius took a slow, deliberate step forward, giving her time to tell him to stay where he was.

"In a manner of speaking, yes, however the most interesting topic that we covered was resentment. Do you remember?" He spoke patiently, gently. As quietly as he had done in the early hours of the morning, when nothing had pleased her more than having him whisper into her ear as the sun rose. Lucius had told her time and time again that she was not obliged to whisper in his home, which was sweet, and although he hadn't quite understood that she had considered the hours between night and day to be sacred, he had done his best to oblige her. "It was resentment, Daphne. I told you that in my experience -"

"Women were never honest about it." Daphne could recall the conversation with astonishing clarity, now that he had prompted her.

"Yes. My experience with you has been unlike that of any other woman, and I wonder if that could still hold true. Regardless of the answer to that question, you are unique, my dear, and I am in no position to think less of you because of it." He placed a tentative arm on her shoulder, and Daphne jerked away as though burned, knocking a glass jar from the shelf beside her.

"Reparo." The pieces fitted back together without a single flaw, and she wished that relationships were that easy to fix. "I don't – I don't know, Lucius, and I can't think in here. Meet me in..." She checked her pocket watch, internally calculating how much time she would need. "Meet me in two hours from now at -"

"That restaurant again? I dare say that you're in even more desperate need of a good meal than when I first encountered you, and it would be a most fitting conclusion, wouldn't you agree?" He gave a slight smile, looking more tired than Daphne had ever seen him. She didn't know whether to back away from what was a truly alarming proximity or to allow the tips of her fingers to map the geography of his face, a landscape with which they were more than familiar.

"I honestly don't know." Daphne moved past him, turning back as she voiced the question that had been playing on her mind since she had first caught sight of him in the corridor. "She knows as much as another person can know about you, Lucius, and yet she told me that you wouldn't approach me again. What made you come here today?"

A flicker of surprise passed across his face, its magnitude so great that it could not be concealed. Daphne began to suspect that Narcissa had acted entirely without his knowledge.

"A mixture of reasons; I was curious to see how you've been since we last parted ways, and I wanted to find out for myself if..." Lucius frowned slightly as he considered how best to phrase what he was trying to say.

"If you could have me back?" An acid note entered Daphne's voice. She folded her arms protectively.

"I would have to be deeply stupid to make such an assumption, and more so to have acted upon it. No, I wanted to know that you had managed to recover." He watched her reaction guardedly, and Daphne tried not to show all of the thoughts that were passing through her head.

"What do you think?" Daphne had imagined the dynamic between them would have changed irrevocably, and yet she knew that she could no more fool Lucius that she could herself.

"That you look tired – beautiful, despite being a little worn." He looked her up and down with searching eyes and Daphne knew that she was being given an honest appraisal. "I'd wager that you have managed to divert yourself thus far, although you will probably continue to be angry with me for a very long time."

"I wish that you hadn't done it." It was a spectacularly obvious thing to have said, but it was all that Daphne could think of. She didn't know how she should feel about being so close to the best of the man she had loved, nor did she know what to think about it.

"I'm sorry, Daphne." The silence grew between them, and the noise of the crowds assembled outside of the little room seemed to belong to another world. Tilting his head to the side, Lucius frowned. "You ought to have kept the rubies, you know, even if you didn't care for what it was that they represented; you suit the colour."

Bemused, Daphne gave a choked laugh.

It was exactly the kind of remark that Lucius would make, and its characteristic nature forced her to consider afresh all of the things she had lost when she had left him after that horrible, horrible day.

"I have to go, but I'll see you later." Attempting to compose herself as she went, Daphne stepped back into the hallway and allowed herself to be engulfed by the wave of questions and congratulations directed at her. From the corner of her eye, as she was discussing the inspiration behind her theory with a wizard from Denmark, Daphne saw Lucius slip out of the conference hall unnoticed. Smiling brightly to cover her momentary lapse in concentration, she began to explain what it was that had drawn her to the idea.

She knew that she would keep her word and meet Lucius for dinner, because as much as he had hurt her, Daphne couldn't bring herself to return the favour.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review, especially if you plan on subscribing!**


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapter is dedicated to **_**TuesdayNovember**_** because of all of the lovely, detailed reviews she has left me. I am incredibly grateful.**

**OoOoO**

Daphne stood outside of the restaurant, pacing back and forth ever few seconds. Her arms were wrapped around her torso as though to keep out the cooling air of the evening and the posture of her angular frame radiated anxiousness. Punctuality was a quality that she valued, much unlike her mother or her younger sister, and from her very first day at Hogwarts, Daphne had tried to be on time to every appointment that she had made, be it a class scheduled on her timetable or one of the school's many quidditch matches. After she had finished with the school and secured her apprenticeship with Temperance, Daphne had redoubled her efforts to be punctual, knowing that it was the impression she created with potential business associates rather than the Greengrass name that was going to take her forwards – that, and the idea of tardiness had never sat well with her. Time wasn't to be taken for granted, after all. And yet, she was late for her meeting with Lucius Malfoy.

Daphne had actually taken out her pocket watch and looked as the hand ticked by the time upon which they had agreed before continuing to linger as though undecided. The fact was that she knew she would go in – she had to for her own peace of mind, and she had no desire to leave Lucius waiting as though to prove some petty point – and yet, despite the way in which she was still buzzing from the conference, for almost half an hour Daphne was too nervous to take the definite step of walking through the door.

It was only when she realised with startling clarity that there could be no absolute split from Lucius, or even the beginnings of reconciliation, without her going into the restaurant that Daphne managed to pluck up the courage to enter.

Nothing about the decor was different from her previous visits, and yet Daphne sensed a change in the feelings the place evoked in her; this time, she didn't care what people thought of her. With her head held high, Daphne walked straight past the waiters and climbed the stairs, making a beeline for the section that was reserved for the more moneyed diners of the wizarding world. She spotted Lucius almost immediately, his platinum blonde hair shining in the light as he leant over to read the menu. He did not look like a man who was worrying about whether or not he had been stood up, however as Daphne knew very well, he was not one for wearing his heart on his sleeve.

As he heard her approach, Lucius ceased his examination of the menu and looked up. An almost sad look came into his eyes, although it passed so quickly that Daphne couldn't be certain that it had ever been there in the first place. Before she could protest, he had stood and was pulling out her seat for her. Having him in such close proximity was, in many ways, deeply unsettling. Trying not to show the more significant of her thoughts, Daphne sat and allowed him to push her chair in.

"You're late."

It was not the greeting she had expected. As Lucius returned to his own seat, Daphne could only stare.

"I can leave if it bothers you too much." She spoke frostily, all of her previous nervousness returning. It was all good and well trying to stand her ground, but with Lucius Malfoy, one never knew where, exactly, that ground was located or even how solid it would prove to be.

"It wasn't a criticism, my dear; merely an observation." He spoke softly, as though concerned that he had already managed to push her away. Internally, Daphne marvelled that she could still read him passably well. "Would you care for anything to drink?"

Lucius made a subtle gesture and a waitress approached, quill and parchment in hand.

"A glass of dry white wine and some water, please." Daphne ignored his quizzical glance – she needed to maintain a clear head for their meeting to be a success.

"I'll take the usual red and a lamb chop. Daphne, what would you care to eat?"

"I'm not hungry – a salad's fine." She handed over her menu and watched as the girl left, rather wishing she hadn't; it meant that she would have to make conversation with Lucius, and that wasn't going to be easy.

"You're too thin." He was openly observing her, those deep grey eyes once again taking in all of the little details. It wasn't that he was wrong, but his concern caused Daphne to bristle. She had been too busy to eat regularly because of her obsessive working, and her work had become obsessive because of him. If Lucius truly cared, he would have considered the consequences of his actions.

"I suppose that means you don't want me back. Well, thank you for taking my dilemma and effectively throwing it out of the window." With a tart smile, Daphne took a sip of the wine that had been set by her place.

"Don't be like that; so bitter – it's far from becoming. Or if you must, don't do it on my account. Find a more worthwhile source for that indignation of yours to stem from." Extending his hand across the table, Lucius sighed when Daphne withdrew her fingers from the tabletop. He reached for his cane, pulled out his wand and dropped it onto the middle of the table for her to take. "You're in no danger now. Take it – go on."

As she considered his offer, Daphne's cynicism died away. She shook her head slowly, scarcely believing what Lucius had suggested. He was easily the proudest man she had ever met, and yet he was prepared to relinquish her wand in order to make her feel secure.

"I don't think that I have to, but thank you all the same." In spite of everything, the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Daphne watched with interest as he reclaimed his wand, sliding it neatly into the top of his cane, the movement belying his natural elegance.

At that moment their food arrived, and Daphne imagined that Lucius would be thankful that it had saved him from having to formulate a response to her gratitude. His steak had been cooked to perfection and it smelled absolutely delicious – as salads went, hers was the cream of the crop, however Daphne was forced to recognise the truth in his words as her mouth watered; she really should be eating more, and her body was telling her so. Without preamble, Lucius began to cut into his steak. Only, he wasn't going about it in what he would have described as an acceptable manner; he had cut out the more tender parts of the meat and was transferring it onto her plate before Daphne could protest.

"No arguments." He paused, drinking from his glass of red wine, long fingers curled around the stem. "Do you know, Narcissa used to do that for Draco when he was a boy."

"Oh?" The reference to his son, who was the same age as Daphne, made her consider the disparity in their ages anew. Although the thought made her slightly uncomfortable – nothing compared to how Draco would feel, were he to discover that she had taken up with his father – Daphne was curious, as it was very rare indeed for the Malfoy patriarch to discuss his son with her in any way, especially since the fuss about his failed engagement to Astoria had died down.

"Yes... I left you to go and visit him. The invitation was the first significant contact I have had with my son since – well, you can imagine. I was glad to see that he had settled into his home so well, and, if you'll forgive my saying so, that his marriage to the former Miss Parkinson seems a lot less volatile than I had anticipated, in light of her indiscretion. Draco, however, did not share my pleasure in the occasion." He spoke as stoically as he ever did, which made the real tragedy of his life seem even greater. Daphne found herself wishing that Draco could and would prove capable of forgiving his father, who seemed to be paying for more than his share of the war. "Eat before it gets cold."

Obediently, Daphne speared the first mouthful of steak with her fork and sampled it. The meat all but melted on her tongue, and she understood why it was that Lucius was so fond of luxury. Having him share it with her so openly was a welcome experience, as it was his own indirect way of expressing affection.

"Thank you. Lucius?" She regarded him carefully, her expression hesitant. He raised an eyebrow, inviting the question that was resting on her lips. "You don't have to tell me. It's not a case of you having to jump through so many hoops in order to get me back; not at all. I don't even know what it is that I'm looking for from you. Okay?"

"I shall try and keep that in mind." His lip curled, a trace of irony making its way into his voice. "However, it was I who breached our taciturn agreement and, regardless of your wishes, shared the details of my past with you. The only way that I can hope to make amends for that is to tell you more of the present, which I would like you to share with me."

"Don't..." Lowering her voice, Daphne continued more quietly, unwilling to draw attention to their discussion. "You do _not_ get to try and guilt me into anything."

He gave a hollow laugh, and it was clear that he could, if he wanted to, attempt to manipulate her feelings for his own personal benefit. Not understanding the source of his amusement, Daphne tilted her head to the side, a steely curious clouding her features.

"That was not my intent."

"Then what's so funny?"

"You're guilty of nothing by comparison, Daphne. Do as you please; it's not for me to try and sway your decisions. That I couldn't was and continues to be a part of your appeal." Raising his glass in a silent toast, Lucius smiled almost sadly. "I would have you back, if I could, although the choice remains your own."

Made uncomfortable by the intensity of his gaze, Daphne lowered her head. She toyed with her food, imagining that Lucius would find her actions every bit as irritating as he had always done. Passive aggression: the last resort of a Slytherin.

"Tell me more about it, then." It was too good an offer, having Lucius offer to explain more about his life to her. "I'm curious."

Lucius cast a subtle glance around the room. Although the upstairs of the restaurant was deserted, Daphne could tell that he was anxious about being overheard. It was an understandable fear, if not perfectly rational; his reputation couldn't afford having his past dredged up in a newspaper article, or something equally crass.

"Would you be willing to return to my home? I believe it would be prudent to have this discussion elsewhere now that we have ascertained that we will indeed be having it."

"No. We can go back to mine for coffee and you can tell me then." Daphne couldn't help but be surprised by how firmly she had spoken, although she held his questioning gaze – Lucius was watching her openly, his expression inscrutable.

"As you please." He finished what was left of his meal in silence, unconcerned by the way that Daphne was watching him.

When the waiter brought the bill, she found her purse and had deposited half of the required amount onto the tray before Lucius could object. Her income had improved slightly since their last meal together, and the money she had received for speaking at the conference made the extravagance seem justifiable. Besides, the last thing she wanted was for Lucius to pay their entire tab; being indebted to him was out of the question. Respecting her wishes, Lucius did not argue with their bill being split, although she could tell that it amused him.

They left the restaurant in a companionable silence, each mulling over their own thoughts. Daphne found herself enjoying having his company, and she imagined that he too would find it pleasant to have her close by.

"Do you remember where I live?" The last thing that she needed was for Lucius to splinch himself because he couldn't remember her exact address.

"I believe so." His expression was stoic, and Daphne got the impression that even if he couldn't recall the specific location, Lucius wasn't prepared to admit it – his masculine pride wouldn't allow for it.

Not giving herself time to second guess her decision, Daphne wrapped her hand around his wrist and disapparated, taking them into the corridor outside of her flat. It was only as she was in the process of unlocking the door that she remembered the state her home had been left in before her departure that morning.

With a few choice spells, she soon had all of the books and parchment that had littered her living room back in their places and water boiling for coffee. Lucius remained standing by the fireplace, taking in his new surroundings. With the exception of his unsuccessful attempt to convince Daphne to become his mistress, he had never been inside of her home – as she made the coffee, she wondered what impression her living environment created. Certainly, it was nowhere near as grand as his ancestral home in Wiltshire, yet it was without any dark secrets at its heart.

Sensing his eyes upon her, Daphne turned to face her guest as she loaded the mugs of coffee and accompanying biscuits onto the tray.

"You can sit down, if you'd like." She smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner, inwardly berating herself for neglecting to ensure that he was comfortable.

Due to their previous closeness and his own rather endearing streak of arrogance, she would have thought that he would have had no problem making himself at home. It seemed that Lucius was making no assumptions about the boundaries between them.

"Thank you." As he accepted his drink, Daphne silently thanked her mother for the set of crockery that, until now, had been as unappreciated as it was unused. She kicked off her shoes and joined him on the sofa. "There is a great deal that you deserve to know – the problem is that I am not quite certain where to start."

"The beginning?" Daphne had only been teasing, however Lucius nodded slowly.

"Yes... perhaps that would be best." He frowned, staring into the depths of his coffee, and it was only when she had started to consider prompting him that he began to talk once more.

Lucius told her a little about his upbringing, the kind of little mysteries that Narcissa would have known and taken for granted; he had interpreted her tongue-in-cheek answer in the literal sense. As he spoke, he painted a picture of childhood as luxurious as it was cold – there was not a hint of self-pity, and Daphne doubted that he would ever have considered himself to have been deprived of a certain kind of emotional warmth; his mother had died in childbirth, leaving Abraxas Malfoy to raise him single-handedly. The relationship between father and son was characterised by a balance between reverence and fear.

Abraxas had instilled his own values in his son from an early age, and although it was unclear how Lucius felt about his own father's death, Daphne realised that he appreciated the work ethic and pride that his father had left him with, if nothing else. It was also apparent that he was conscious of how this relationship had impacted rather negatively on his paternal role in Draco's life, although Daphne didn't comment on it.

She did have one question, though:

"You mentioned Professor Snape when..." Daphne looked down at her empty mug before leaning forwards to place it on the coffee table. "He was... It's strange to imagine that I could have ended up doing Potions with him rather than Temperance, and although I didn't fully understand at the time, I feel as though I owe him for what he would have done for me. Could you tell me something about him?"

"Ah, Severus... he was prodigiously bright, as I'm sure that you will have surmised, and a skilled wizard. What I then viewed as his greatest failing, I now view in a rather more... sympathetic light. He loved Lily Evans beyond all reason – Harry Potter's mother. Being something of a role model to him, I did my best to quash this infatuation for fear of how the social ramifications would damage his career, but he always held firm. I put it down as stubbornness, at first. He was always secretive, and although I never suspected that he spied on the Dark Lord, the reasoning given by Potter fell in line with the man I knew." Lucius paused, eyeing Daphne as though to see how she had taken this information. "Although I was not the sole reason for him joining the Death Eaters, a significant portion of the blame is mine."

"I see." And Daphne did. Recalling the enigmatic Potions Master of Hogwarts, she knew that no one force, however powerful, could have swayed his hand. "Tell me more about your time at Hogwarts, please."

"Very well. I had always taken it for granted that I would be sorted into Slytherin – you may once have felt the same way. It was the house of cunning and ambition. I wanted to be a greater man than father, and so I worked diligently. My belief that it would be easier for the best of us to ascend to the top without those of muggle birth to hold us back was fostered, and it was during my fifth year that I first learned of _him_, although my sister-in-law was reluctant to share the spotlight, and also of what it was that he stood for. It was like being presented with an easy path to the power that I had been craving – it was the greatest honour I could do my father, and also myself, or so it seemed." His lip curled in a disdainful sneer. "You wouldn't think me capable of such naivety, Daphne. A brand to join his service – that was all that I thought taking the Mark would entail -"

"Lucius -" Panic welled up in Daphne. She didn't know that she could stomach any more horrors. She still dreamed of the dark scenes that he had painted in her imagination.

"- and I was wrong. I shan't reiterate why. Narcissa understood before I did, and she tried more valiantly to protect out son. Before I fell from his good graces, I had done nothing to suggest that Draco would be anything other than willing to follow in my footsteps. I thought that it would give him everything that he wanted. By the time I truly understood, it was too late. You believe me, don't you?" Lucius was yet to speak about his experiences with anything other than a cool detachment, and so it wasn't immediately obvious that he had asked a question. It was only when she noticed the hollow look of defeat spreading across his features that Daphne understood what he was asking.

"I do." As though to prove her point, Daphne slipped her hand into his and squeezed gently.

"I joined the Death Eaters a couple of years after I finished at Hogwarts. My career at the Ministry was just beginning to take off, and I had married a woman who couldn't have been better suited to my needs at the time. It was never supposed to turn out like this; from statesman to little more than a madman's servant, and from that to nothing..." He laughed bitterly at the futility of this statement. "And yet, it did."

"I'm sorry." Daphne could scarcely bring herself to whisper the words. She didn't think it was fair that someone should pay so great a price for their mistakes. She was beginning to see why Narcissa had thought that she wouldn't be enough for her husband.

"Don't be – you were an unexpected period of good fortune. I have many regrets, Daphne, and you are not one of them." He shifted to face her and with deliberate slowness reached out to caress her cheek, bringing his hand down to rest against her neck. Daphne's breathe hitched. "Although I count hurting you amongst my biggest mistakes. That you could accept what I was and continue to be was... truly extraordinary."

She laughed shakily, feeling as though she had just taken a portkey into some unknown realm.

"It wasn't the things that you did that made me fall in love with you; it was the man you are."

He nodded sagely.

"Yes, and you do not define that man by his numerous wrongdoings." They sat together, enveloped in the natural darkness of the night. Daphne had been so entranced by his speaking that she had forgotten even to light the fire.

"Lucius?" Her voice was muffled by a yawn that she couldn't quite suppress.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for telling me all of that." It was the most amazing gesture that he could have made, and Daphne's only regret was that he hadn't done so during their time together. She rested her head on his shoulder, too tired to try and stop herself recalling how it had felt to fall asleep encased in his arms.

"I would give you anything; whatever you wanted. Surely you know that by now, my dear?"

"You just did – give me exactly what I wanted. Just do me a favour and stop trying to buy me, okay?" Daphne nudged him with her elbow for emphasis, entirely serious. In his typical fashion, Lucius found her request to be particularly amusing.

"Oh, that keeping a hold of you was so simple..." He snorted. "Actually, I'm glad that isn't. You couldn't be the same if it was."

"I don't think that I could survive if you hurt me again." Daphne hated how small her voice was in the room. She hated how much that she wanted to stop fighting against her wishes and take Lucius back.

"Nor could I."

"Good, because I'd kill you. Do you know how many poisons that I'm capable of brewing? You wouldn't even be able to taste some of them." Daphne did not have a stomach for violence, nor was she inclined to use force against another person after what she had experienced of the war, however poison was the closest one could get to combining pacifism with revenge. She could tell that Lucius was smiling.

"No, I don't. How many?"

"I have no idea, truthfully, but it's definitely food for thought." Daphne couldn't help but giggle at her own suggestion, and also the way in which is caused Lucius to sigh. "Do you think that we'll be alright?"

"In what sense of the word?" Lucius waited for her to speak. When no response was forthcoming, he forced himself to answer the question. "I'll love you as well as can, presuming that you still return the sentiment?"

There was a tense silence. Daphne's mouth felt dry. She knew what she wanted, and yet she was terrified of the risk. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him, but what if he did snap and break her heart again – was she to become one of those pathetic women who simply tolerated it?

"Lucius..." She forced herself to shift so that she was no longer leaning against him. "I don't know what to do."

"That is understandable." He stood, collected his cane and lit the fire. "Had things been different, I would have offered you marriage. As it is, this is the best that I can offer, and I wish you to have it regardless of what decision you reach."

Withdrawing a small box from his pocket, Lucius pressed it into Daphne's hand.

"I told you, I don't want -" Immediately she stood, trying to return it.

"It's almost worthless, so don't misinterpret the gift. It belonged to my mother and remained in my father's possession until his death." Sensing that Daphne wasn't going to open it, Lucius did so, revealing a small ring with a diamond on top. The stone glittered in the firelight.

"It's very beautiful, but..."

"It's yours." Taking the ring from the box, he placed it on Daphne's palm and closed her fingers around it, bringing her hand to his mouth for a kiss. "Goodnight, Daphne Greengrass."

Dazed, she watched as Lucius walked towards the door. Just before he reached for the handle, she knew that once he left she would miss him fiercely. There was so much that she wanted to say, and yet no words she knew of felt adequate.

"You really do love me, don't you?" A note of uncertainty must have made its way into her voice, because he turned to look at her curiously.

"You foolish girl, of course I do." His eyes widened in surprise as, half-laughing, half-sobbing, Daphne launched herself at him. Lucius wrapped an arm around her waist, tentatively wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Don't cry on my account – I suspect that I've been the cause of more than enough of your tears."

"I love you anyway." Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Daphne rested her head against his chest, the material of his robes smooth against her cheek. She felt him plant a gentle kiss against her forehead. "I really do. So don't go."

"Are you quite certain that you would rather I stayed?" Lucius placed a hand under Daphne's chin, forcing her to meet his gaze in spite of her tiredness.

"Positive – I'm exhausted, and I've missed having you there when I roll over." With that, she led the way into her bedroom and together they prepared for sleep.

If Lucius was uncomfortable with sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, he said nothing, content to have her in his arms as she drifted off to sleep. Not since they had parted ways had Daphne slept so well – perhaps it wasn't the most logical of arrangements, however in the arms of a former Death Eater, she had never felt safer or more secure. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she could have sworn that Lucius was holding her more tightly than he had done before.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


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